


Beautiful Mess

by alex_jones



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: BoyxBoy, College AU, Depression, Mental Illness, Multi, Paranoia, Psych Ward, Psychological Drama, Schizophrenia, Therapy, mentions of bipolar disorder, mentions of self harm, overdose attempt, psychiatric hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 118,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_jones/pseuds/alex_jones
Summary: Alfred Jones is the best painter at Yale University, and seemingly the boy with the brightest smile. One day, he gets a new roommate by the name of Arthur Kirkland, and the two hit it off immediately.Everything seems perfect, until Alfred's behavior rapidly changes.What will happen to him in the future? Will he have Arthur in his darkest hours? Will he win the war against his own mind?Let's find out!





	1. Chapter One

//quick note regarding the whole work: I have absolutely no clue how to do italic styling on the text on Ao3. The sentences WITHOUT QUOTATION MARKS said in 1st or 2nd person are thoughts or auditory hallucinations, that will be visible from the context.  
Also, this story has been published on Wattpad for quite a while, I just decided to transport it here as well.  
Have fun!//  
\----------

April

It was a clear, sunny spring day in New Haven, Connecticut, and nothing could have been better than it was. The skies were painted in the brightest blue, and there wasn't a trace of clouds to be seen. The sound of birds singing mixed with gentle music coming from speakers that somebody placed in the park for personal enjoyment, and it added to the atmosphere nicely.

In front of a big building known as the University of Yale, or just Yale by its loyal students, a certain blonde haired American in a grey college hoodie was adjusting his glasses, sitting on a slightly shaky bench underneath his favourite tree that also gave him shade and protection from the bright light of the sun, opening his laptop as he placed it on his lap. It was time to go over some of the notes he did in class, and at the same time he was able to relax. Other students moved around the park, some sat, some talked, some studied, some laughed... Everybody was having a great day.  
The boy scrolled down the typed out notes he had done for Art history, one of the classes he took along with Art, English and Calculus, a weird combination, he might have been the only one with it, but he didn't care. He did what he loved the most - painting, writing and solving problems. Yet none of those other ones could even compete with the feeling of smoothly running a paintbrush down a blank surface, getting out all of his emotions just with those gentle strokes until a painting was created. And he was amazing at it, to the point of getting his work exhibited in the university exhibition hall.

His name was Alfred Jones, and if he had a dollar for every time he was called out for having such a common name, he would have been somewhere other than the United States of America years ago. Still, for some reason, he didn't mind. He thought it suited his personality a lot. The boy was extroverted, very social, enthusiastic about everything, constantly the optimist of his friend group and probably one of the most passionate people at college. He had a tendency to actively fight and stand up for everything he believed was right, and would always get a massive amount of support. The others said it was because of his charismatic smile and undying positivity, the will to go on despite everything, but that came with an annoying side to it. So many girls had already asked him out, and he told everyone he wasn't interested in romance about six million times by now.

Well, that was a lie. He was interested in romance, but not with girls. And even if it happened, none of those girls felt like the right one for him anyway. He wanted a long term relationship, a loving, caring partner who would be there for him because of his inner, deeper self, and not a one night stand because he was, apparently, good looking. Even if he didn't quite think so himself.  
He believed he would never find something like that, but again, his older brother Matthew Jones thought the same thing, and he had been in a relationship with this gorgeous French Canadian girl called Adrienne Bonnefoy since the first year of college. It was love at first sight, the two of them would always say.

Matthew was almost the opposite of his brother, but again, they were similar in ways. They both cared a lot about people, were very social, but Matthew preferred to stay rational, organized and attached to his emotions unlike his highly intuitive brother who liked the phrase go with the flow more than anything. And the older was more into science than the other. For him, no painting could measure with solving problems in physics and chemistry, though he had a soft spot for Psychology, a class he also took along with Natural sciences.

Today, Alfred was supposed to meet a person. Specifically, his new roommate, since the Danish boy he used to share the room with had just moved away, and they were constantly accepting new students. He was excited the whole day, but had to wait a little longer for somebody to notify him that they, the person he'd live with, arrived.  
But at the moment, he got lost in thought far too easily after a long day, and the peace of the park almost put him to sleep. He decided to turn off his laptop, shove it in the backpack and put earphones in, just glancing into the distance and observing while soft music filled his senses. It wasn't considered unusual as it was back in highschool, which was a thing he loved about college. He was only nineteen, but sometimes he felt like his mind was older. More mature than most people his age, which might have been the reason why he didn't have too many friends despite his sociable soul. His friends were a brown haired Hungarian girl named Elizabeta, her boyfriend Gilbert and Mathias, the Danish guy who sadly wasn't with them anymore since yesterday. Of course, there were many more people he considered friends, but he was close with none of them as he was with his lovely, little group. He just loved them.

"Excuse me, are you Alfred Jones?"

Suddenly, his train of thought was interrupted by a gentle voice, someone he didn't even notice earlier sat onto the bench next to him, scaring him a little bit in all honesty.  
He took out his earphones, luckily hearing what the other asked, blinking a few times before he finally mustered out a sentence.

"Yup, I'm him! Nice to meet you..."

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

So they shook hands. Alfred smiled at the man, in a single glance managing to analyze him from the bottom to the top. He was quite handsome, with his messy, sandy blonde hair and blushing cheeks in contrast to the rest of his skin. Unlike Alfred who wore a simple hoodie and jeans, Arthur Kirkland was wearing an actual suit. Who the hell goes to college in a suit...? Despite the strange clothing style, the American felt weirdly attracted to him.  
It must have been the English accent.

"Right, two important questions for you before we actually socialize because you're a stranger and I have trust issues. Why are you here and how do you know my name?" Alfred raised an eyebrow at him, but it was obvious that the words he spoke weren't meant to be hostile at all, but were rather tender if one listened to them closely.

"Oh, sorry, how indecent of me. I'm supposed to be your new roommate. I asked somebody if they knew where an Art student named Alfred Jones was, and I was lucky they knew you. So they pointed to this bench." The Englishman had a static facial expression, while the American kept smiling and blushing like a schoolgirl, and he didn't even realize.

"Of course they knew me, the entire college knows me!" He laughed, but then waved his hand. "Kidding, kidding. I'm not that conceited. Anyway, welcome! I'm sure we're going to have a great time together. If you'd like to, I can show you around the dorm right now."

Immediately getting up and swinging his backpack over his shoulder in a swift movement, he flashed Arthur a grin after which the Brit just shyly smiled and followed behind him.  
The park looked beautiful, bright green and simply enchanting to look at, so they walked slowly just because the newcomer wanted to observe it for a longer amount of time. 'This looks nothing like my university in England. It's a massive change, I might take months to get adjusted to it." He commented breathily, gazing at Alfred every now and then because the boy was even prettier to look at than the nature surrounding them.

"You'll love it in America. Why'd you move anyway? What classes do you take?"

Goodness, so many questions, and they had just met a minute ago. To Arthur's socially anxious mind, that might have been too much. Still, he had to leave a good first impression to someone who he would live with for the next three years. So he gathered himself together and sighed, making a quick steps forward to catch up with Alfred who was already entering the dorm rooms. "I cannot tell you why I moved since it's too personal. But I can tell you what I take. English, History and Social studies. It's because I need to learn how to make friends before I die alone." He coughed to hide embarrassment at his own words, not knowing why he would even say that to someone he'd just met. "I'm just joking."

"You're an awkward one, aren't you?" Alfred chuckled, a small smirk forming in the corner of his lips. "You don't have to be awkward around me, please! I'm just an amateur painter, and still a teenager. Come follow me inside now. We live on the second floor."

"You paint? That's really interesting. Also, how old are you, if you don't mind me asking...? Because I'm definitely older than you if you're just a teenager."

"Nineteen. But that doesn't make me any more or less immature. I just can't legally drink yet, not that I want to or anything."

"Oh, thank goodness. I'm twenty one. I thought you were a few years younger by the way you said it." Arthur shook his head and laughed.

"You're old."

"Piss off!"

"Now that's what I wanted to hear!" Alfred wholeheartedly laughed, swinging his arm around Arthur as if they had known each other for years. "You gotta open up. This is America, everyone is loud and obnoxoius and talkative, you need to feel the magic." His eyes sparkled as he spoke in such a passionate tone of voice. Arthur loved it, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. "If you can't, I'll help you see the world through the eyes of an American. It's very bright, I must say. Radiates happiness. Everything is just so... Gorgeous. Kind of like you."

"Wait, what was that?" Arthur almost choked as he heard the last sentence, immediately shooting a perplexed, startled look towards Alfred. "The last part."

"Oh. I said that everything is gorgeous. You might have heard me wrong." Realizing what he said, he tried to badly cover it up as a misunderstanding and hid his blush by looking away for a moment or two. Luckily, they were already standing right in front of the door to the room they were going to share for quite some time.

"I'm sure I didn't." Arthur mumbled under his breath. He couldn't stop smiling around the cheerful American boy, and such optimism wasn't something he usually felt.

As they entered the room, the Englishman looked around in awe - it was full of mesmerizing paintings, probably all done by the American. It seemed like his favourite motives to draw were the forest and small towns by the sea, along with small details like perfectly drawn rooftops and animals in coloured pencil rather than painting techniques. Some works looked completely messy, but again represented something like a burst of held in emotions or those moments of hysteria that somehow needed to be expressed. On the desk in the corner, a sketchpad was open and Arthur could spot random signatures of the boy's name in different fonts and styles, probably just doodles out of boredom.  
There were handmade band posters on the wall above the bunk beds, and all in all, the space looked exactly like somewhere a stereotypical crazy artist would live.  
"Your room is... A total mess." He said in a monotone voice, and Alfred just giggled.

"A creative mess, you mean. Trust me, I know. You better get used to it, because I'm not changing that. Or just keep your part of the room clean if it bothers you too much. Oh and, I sleep on the top bed. That's an unwritten rule. The other rules are... Well, that's probably the only one." The American stood in the middle for a few seconds as if he was thinking. "Right, there's another one. Don't wear suits. It looks far too formal and makes me uneasy. You're not a businessman, you're a college kid." He approached the Brit from the front after throwing his backpack on the floor, taking the hem of his suit and pulling it down in a quick motion leaving the other in only a blue short sleeved t-shirt before he could even protest. "Yup, already looks better."

"You bloody idiot." Arthur just scoffed in response, rolling his eyes in what was supposed to be an annoyed manner, but just turned out to be somehow loving.

It looked like everything would go smoothly for him from now on. Whatever happened back in England that forced him to the States would soon be long forgotten, and each feeling of dread would be replaced by the warmth of Alfred's voice and cheerful smile.

Could anything be better than that?


	2. Chapter Two

"Arthur, get the fuck up, we're going to be late to class! God, you're worse than my previous roommate..."

Alfred stood in the middle of their shared room with his backpack over his shoulder, hands on his hips and lips pursed forming a frown on his face. He had spent the last ten minutes trying to wake the Englishman up, and when he finally got him to open his eyes, he just continued rolling around the bed and refusing to get ready for English, the class they shared today. The American had already been in Calculus earlier in the morning while the other was sleeping like a baby, no sound able to make him move a single milimeter.

"I don't want to..." Arthur groaned into his pillow, tossing and turning once again while tightly gripping the bedsheets.

"I will choke you with a pillow! We can't be late today, we have a creative writing session, and those are my favourite parts of English!"

"My favourite part is sleeping longer."

And after that statement, Alfred just gave up. "Right, I'm going by myself. You stay in bed and give a bad first impression to the professor. Don't forget, you're a newcomer, they don't always have to be nice to newcomers..." He turned away, approaching the door in slow steps hoping that Arthur would change his mind and join him. "I'm leaving now... Aren't you tempted to get up just by my teasing? You can beat me in a race to class!"

He got absolutely no response from the Englishman.

"I'll take you on a date this evening if you go."

Finally, that's what broke him. Almost choking at the words, Arthur fell out of bed with an intense blush on his face that he wasn't able to hide. "You git! How do you even know I'm into you? How could you even assume I like men?!" He was close to shouting out, but all that came out was a weak tone and an embarrassing voice crack to which Alfred let out a string of loud laughter that echoed through the space around them.

"Oh, I knew as soon as I saw you. I guess I have a sixth sense about those kinds of things." The younger boy chuckled, helping Arthur up from the floor.

He hadn't felt so ashamed of himself in years -being so obvious about who he liked when he tried his best to repress the emotions and hide them forever. At last, he planned to take that secret to the grave. But again, Alfred was attractive in all aspects, and having a dinner date with him sounded like quite the plan. Even if they just met a day ago, there was this strange feeling of an instant connection lingering in the air, and perhaps the only way that slight bit of remaining tension could have been removed was with a kiss.

"Whatever, I'm going. Just give me a minute to get ready." The Brit sighed, mumbling something under his breath and quickly throwing on a black t-shirt, replacing his pyjama pants with blue ripped jeans. In his eyes, he didn't look half as good as Alfred, who styled his hair perfectly, only a small part of it sticking out almost as if he made it purposefully. He was wearing a dark blue All Time Low hoodie and grey sweatpants that Arthur wanted to take off right there. But not because he didn't like them, of course.

The boy was now smirking and standing at the door, satisfied how he was able to get a date and get Arthur out of bed all in ten minutes.

"We're still on for that dinner tonight, right?" He asked as they took their leave.

"Talk to the hand, Jones."

\- - -

After a successful English class, the two of them decided to meet up with Alfred's friend group - actually, it was more like Arthur giving up and finally accepting that meeting new people is healthy after the American nagged him about it for twenty minutes, and even during class because he just had to be the one to finish the writing assignment first and also somehow make it the longest.

Arthur was good at examining and analyzing people. He noticed that Alfred zoned out frequently. He easily spotted his small fidgety movements when he was nervous. And observing his eyes from afar brought him to two conclusions. First, he got too much into Alfred and only wrote three weak, short sentences on the writing assignment. Second, Alfred was a creative mind with a boiling, emotional, creative soul inside of him.

He had never met anyone with such a burning passion inside.

Oh, but Arthur wasn't stupid nor oblivious, and there were things about his new American roommate which were a little bit off, yet he didn't want to immediately make unrealistic assumptions like he usually did.  
Alfred shook his head a lot as if he was internally speaking to himself, his gaze drifting away into the distance and sometimes he needed someone to pull him back into reality with a snap of their fingers or a tap on the shoulder. He bit his lip often and took deep breaths when no one was looking.

Except Arthur, of course. Still, the other didn't know he was being observed all throughout class.

Unlucky for him he got a future psychologist as a roommate.

Now they were sitting in a cafe bar, each softly sipping on their own drink and making a conversation with friends. Or in Arthur's case, embarrassing himself in a failed attempt at socializing with actual people.

"I'm going to miss Mathias, but you seem like a really nice guy, Arthur!" Elizabeta, one of Alfred's best friends, spoke up first, holding up her glass of iced tea to which everyone repeated the motion with their own glasses and mugs. "Cheers for meeting you, welcome to the club!"  
The girl had the messiest hair that Arthur had ever seen, but at least her fringe was held up by a flower pin. In his opinion, that was quite cute. She wore an olive coloured flannel shirt and a black skirt, casually crossing her legs and taking another sip of coffee.

"Cheers!" They all said in unison. Matthew, his fancy French Canadian girlfriend Adrienne, Elizabeta, her boyfriend Gilbert, Alfred and of course, Arthur. The only one of them who was drinking tea.

"Also, did we mention Alfred is gay and single? Just throwin' that out there in case... You know." The Hungarian kept speaking. She chuckled at the American's horrified expression and blushing cheeks and suddenly everyone at the table burst into loud laughter.

"I'm way ahead of you, Liz. Arthur and I already have dinner plans for tonight." Gathering his usual confidence and shine, he smirked and threw a sideways glance at the Englishman who looked utterly terrified and ashamed, his face a brighter shade of red than a goddamn solar storm.

"Bloody hell, why does everybody always assume my sexuality? And they're right every time!" He sunk into his chair, covering his face with his hands and hoping he would get sucked in by a black hole or something similar that could kill him.

"Well, you and Alfred are obvious. Just look at the horrible fashion sense and we're done." Adrienne commented in a sassy tone of voice, causing Arthur to almost snap at her since he wasn't in the best relationship with French people in the first place. Even if they weren't exactly from France. It was enough for him to hear the accent, and he would instantly go into defense mode.

Again, everyone laughed except him, engaging in friendly banter and feeling as if they didn't have a single care in the world.

He didn't feel like fitting in anyway, he was here for the education.

And Alfred. That good looking, charismatic son of a bitch that made his heart skip a beat every time he looked at him.

Oh, he wanted to know him better than anyone before. He wished to get lost in him, his eyes, his mind and his body, but not in an unhealthy way.

After all, even in moments like these, he had self control.

Although right now, the biggest thing on his mind was why Alfred was tightly gripping his hand under the table so no one could see, and why he looked as if cracking jokes was just a way of hiding things he didn't want anyone to know.

Perhaps Arthur was overthinking, as usual.

It had to be that.

\- - -

"So, Alfred, where do you plan to go for spring break? Visit your family, travel to another country... I've always liked doing those things, but I won't be visiting my family because I literally just got here from England. It'd be a waste of time, and I also want to get to know you better."

Arthur was trying his best to start a conversation, lying down on his new bed in the dorm and aimlessly scrolling through social media as Alfred was finishing his essay work at the table. His fault for not doing it as soon as they got home.

The American stopped his typing on the small laptop he took everywhere, spinning around in his chair to face the other, a bitter sounding chuckle escaping his lips. "I'd love to visit my family, but they aren't really alive. So I'm just going to stay here and hope that none of our other friends are leaving. Well, I know Matthew and Adrienne aren't, for sure. Also, why even plan ahead? Spring break is in a week. We still have plenty of time to decide on everything." His voice was a little bit rough, perhaps out of frustration because Arthur was the third to interrupt his work this afternoon along with two unwanted phone calls.

Or maybe it was because family was a sensitive topic.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up. I couldn't have known that it's a touchy subject for you." The Brit immediately apologized, feeling awkward for even trying to talk because he failed every time he tried.

"Don't worry, it's fine. I mean, it's been twelve years since it happened, and I'm not the one to dwell over the past." Alfred waved his hand in dismiss, saving the file on his computer in a quick movement and getting off the chair so he could be closer to Arthur.  
It was like the Brit had an intoxicating scent that pulled him in more and more with each passing second, and he just had to obey it.

Arthur got the hint and shifted a bit to the side so they were both able to lay on the same bed. Instantly, he wrapped his arm around the American without hesitation, seeing as they were both completely fine with it, he didn't have to be anxious about making a move.  
"It's okay not to feel alright, Alfred. I've only known you for a day, but I think you're one of those people who just laugh off all their problems so you wouldn't bother others with them."

"Goddammit, you read me like an open book." Alfred breathily laughed and cuddled up to the man for the extra warmth that he craved so badly. "I like keeping things to myself... Why would someone else be unhappy because of me if I could just express my emotions through a painting and wait for the sadness to go away?"

"Because sometimes it's good to seek comfort in others." Arthur ran his fingers gently through Alfred's beautiful, golden blonde hair and watched as the other closed his eyes. "It's good to cry it out into someone's shoulder. Perhaps it creates a different bond, telling that person your worries. You connect on a whole another level, an emotional one."

"I understand... But I don't want to bother you with my stupid family stories."

"Actually, I'd like to know. Then I won't start a sensitive subject again."

Alfred rolled onto his back, letting out a long sigh. Glancing at Arthur, he saw trust in those deep, green eyes and underneath that sandy blonde hair and bushy eyebrows. He saw a person he could rely on. "Alright." Finally, he gave in, yet knew he wouldn't be able to go fully into detail. Sometimes reliving the situation inside of his head made him nauseous, which would explain those paintings of blood, gore and graveyards in the night. "When I was seven, and Matthew was nine, our parents decided that it would be a great idea to take a trip to the West Coast. And of course, we agreed. We packed a suitcase, jumped into the car because we all had a fear of airplanes, and booked a hotel room in San Francisco. Who could have known that we wouldn't make it out alive, right? During the car ride, my mum must have been delusional or something because she literally drove us straight into a fucking van, and all four of us ended up in an emergency room in god knows which state. And my parents didn't survive because they were the ones injured the most, maybe Matt and I were saved because we sat in the back seats or something. So yeah, for the next few years we lived with a caretaker until we were teenagers, since for some idiotic reason, they thought it was a good idea to let two young boys, one sixteen and the other fourteen, live alone. I had a wonderful childhood, as you can see. But ever since it happened, I tried to make others' lives better and cheer everyone up so they don't have to feel like I feel. That's why I keep these things to myself... You're the first one to hear this story." He realized that he was getting tightly embraced by Arthur, and that he managed not to cry throughout speaking. "I'm not even sad, I've only felt that way years ago. I'm fine now. Focused on pursuing my dreams and doing what I love the most."

Arthur couldn't believe this. Why were the happiest looking people always the one with the most broken souls and minds? It just didn't add up to him, no matter how much he tried to understand. The cruelty of the world was unimaginable.  
"I'm sorry." It was the only thing he was able to say, and the next thing he knew was that Alfred's soft lips gently pressed against his own, and he was taken back by the action. All he was able to do was close his eyes and let it happen, melting into the pleasant feeling and warmth. Tenderly, the younger boy intertwined their fingers together and kept kissing him, doing everything in the most loving manner.  
He liked Arthur a lot, despite knowing him for a bit over twenty four hours.

Maybe that was how it felt to find the right person.

"How about we skip dinner and continue date night right in here?" Alfred mischievously grinned, causing Arthur to have a momentary paralysis in the part of the brain in charge of speaking. It only lasted a few seconds, though, before he gathered himself and prepared for what was about to happen.

"Oh, you know I'm so down for it."


	3. Chapter Three

A week had passed since Arthur made his way to not only Alfred's room, but his heart as well.  
They were already in a relationship, and half of the college knew about that after a day because of Alfred's and Elizabeta's big mouth. For some reason unknown to the Brit, they had to tell and announce it to everyone they knew. Even the librarian.  
And people were happy for them, not a single person was unaccepting and that reflected the happiness onto the couple as well.

Now, on the last day of the semester berore spring break, they were finally doing last minute plans and thinking about where they were going and what they were going to do.  
Gathered in Matthew's and Adrienne's dorm, the group of friends diplomatically discussed the matter with some beer that Gilbert successfully acquired from the nearest shop.

"Alright, how about we all stay here and enjoy holidays together for once?" Gilbert suggested, chugging down an entire bottle of Heineken in a minute. At this point, he was almost resistant to alcohol.

"Adrienne and I are going to Montréal, we won't be here." Matthew gave an apologetic smile to his brother, since he didn't announce that to Alfred earlier.

"I thought you were gonna stay!" The younger protested, huffing and crossing his arms almost like a child.

"Non, not this time. I want him to meet my family. Sorry, Alfred. At least you have Arthur!" The brown haired girl shrugged, an honest smile on her face. She always had her hair in some kind of a ponytail, and was currently wearing a flashy purple hoodie and black tights with a skirt on top. No matter the situation, she wanted to look her best.

"I was going to take Gil to see Budapest, but it's fine if we stay... My family insists that I come back to Hungary for two weeks."

"That sounds good to me! I've heard that Hungary has amazing beer. Also Czechia, which I assume is pretty close on the map..." Gilbert chuckled, a tiny bit tipsy which was clear from his voice, though he'd never admit it. He immediately dropped all his plans on staying in America as soon as Liz proposed something else. It wasn't difficult for her to make him do whatever she wanted them to do.

Alfred sighed, feeling a bit down at the realization that all of his friends were going to be away for the entirety of spring break, and even if he had Arthur, he was going to miss socializing.  
And Matthew. His older brother had never left him alone with anyone, knowing how much he was frightened of being without him ever since they lost their parents. But it's been twelve years, Alfred had found a partner, so the older figured it would be good for a first time. Though Alfred didn't like that idea at all.

"So... That leaves only me and Arthur." He flashed a knowing look towards his brother, instinctively gripping the Brit's hand tighter out of pure tension forming deep inside of him.

Arthur glanced at his lover, reassuring him in his mind that everything was going to be fine. Sometimes, he felt as if he could actually read people's thoughts and feel their emotions as they were his own. And currently, Alfred radiated fear and anxiety.

"You two are going to have a great time!" Elizabeta clapped her hands once to put an accent on how it wasn't going to be bad without them. "After all, Alfred, you get along with everyone in college anyway so it won't be a problem for you... Right?"

"Yeah, totally!" Alfred fake chuckled and tried to hide the somewhat obvious dissatisfaction. "I just want you guys to have fun and relax wherever you are."

"Thanks, you're the best!" The Hungarian happily jumped up and hugged her best friend, kissing him quickly on the cheek, all in a platonic way, before she took Gilbert by the hand and dragged him out of the room to the hallways.

Alfred let out a long exhale as the door slammed after the two, and stayed silent for a longer moment until realizing that he needed to say something to break the silence that fell upon them.

"Anyone care for some pizza?" He laughed brightly, yet Arthur could sense it wasn't as cheerful as it was the day they met.

But when he got no reply from the people around him, he just decided to speak again. "I'll pay for it...?" He said in kind of a pleading tone.

"Okay, sure!" Adrienne immediately agreed, but she was interrupted by Matthew who first rolled his eyes at his frugal girlfriend. She always got someone else pay for her food, so then she could spend all the saved money on designer clothing. He loved her nonetheless - they got along most of the time and made each other grow as people.

"No, actually, I need to have a private conversation with Alfred. So if you two could give us a moment... I'd greatly appreciate it." He looked at Arthur and Adrienne who took the hint and nodded, both heading out of the dorm room.

The girl made her way to Elizabeta and Gilbert, most probably to help them back up for their trip to Hungary, and Arthur walked over to his room which was, in fact, farther away than he thought he was.

He got lost in thinking about Alfred. Once again, he did his small analysis of movements and gestures, tone of voice and looks in his eyes and recalled the disappointment in those words and heavy sighs when he found out that not only Matthew, but everyone else was leaving for holidays.

"Alfred", Matt looked directly into the boy's darkened blue eyes, "I sense that you're not fine with me going to Quebec. Is that correct?"

"No, it's alright. You make wrong assumptions." The younger muttered, averting his gaze to the floor since he didn't want to make eye contact because of the nervousness.

"You can tell me anything, just speak up about it if you're not feeling fine. It's going to be alright."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!" Alfred angrily stood up from the bed he was previously sitting on, scaring Matthew with this behaviour that he rarely showed. "I've grown up, I can take care of myself, I'm not damaged like you think I am!"

"I just thought that... There was this frightened look in your eyes and I wanted to help you overcome the fear." The other rationalized his thoughts, softly speaking so there would at least be some peace.

Alfred turned away from his brother, crossing his arms and biting his lip intensely so he wouldn't cry. "I'm not scared! In fact, I want you to leave, you don't even have to come back!" He shouted out in the heat of the anger fit, giving Matthew a quick furious glance. "All you do is treat me like I'm still a helpless kid without a childhood or something, but I don't want that. For all I know, you might even be against me! I don't need you!" And with those words, he stormed out of the room, shutting the door tight with a loud slam as he ran off towards his own, silently crying and wiping off tears so those few students passing by wouldn't notice his sadness and fury.

Matthew was left in utter shock. Alfred had never before lashed out on him this badly.  
Perhaps it was the best idea for him to go to Canada and for them to separate for some time, since they obviously needed space away from each other.  
He had to admit, sometimes he would go overboard with being protective over his younger brother, but that was just because he knew him the best and they'd been through the same terrible things together.

As soon as Alfred opened the door to the room he now shared with Arthur, he masked his burst of emotions with a smile and quickly climbed onto the top bed and buried his face into the pillow once he knew for sure the other couldn't see him.

He developed this weird paranoic state that would sometimes kick in at the weirdest moments, and all this time he was able to conceal it with confidence, charisma and comedy, but now he couldn't even understand himself why he yelled at someone so loving and caring, someone he was closest with all his life. A part of his mind kept convincing him that he did the right thing by pushing Matthew away, but the rest was confused, a jumbled mess of emotions he couldn't comprehend. As if his head was screaming at him and telling him to go against everyone because everyone was against him. And for the longest time, he didn't listen to his subconscious self and acted neutral towards it.

He wasn't able to do that anymore.

"Alfred, are you alright?" Arthur asked in a worried tone from the bed underneath. The boy's rapid breathing could be heard from afar, and it greatly concerned him, since there was a big chance of him having a panic attack or something similar.

"Stop... Stop doing that." Alfred shakily replied, curling up to his blanket and feeling shivers down his spine, a flash of cold overwhelming his body.

"Doing what?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, dropping everything he was working on and straightening up on the bed in case he needed to urgently help Alfred with whatever he was currently dealing with.

"That noise... Stop making that noise..."

"I'm not making any sound, what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Then why can I hear it?!" Alfred jumped up, almost screaming out the words in desperation. It was so loud in his mind, louder than ever before and colder than the coldest winter night.

It wasn't the first time that his senses were filled with something nonexistent. In fact, it happened more often through the past two months, as the constant fear and paranoia increased alongside it. He just didn't want to tell anyone, didn't want to be called crazy or delusional. Yet now, he couldn't understand why he all of a sudden confessed such a thing to Arthur.

"Alfred, please, there is no scary sound in the room, stop panicking! You're being irrational!" Arthur didn't know how to act in a situation like this one, even if he was well determined to understand psychology and help people, he didn't expect Alfred to be the one who needed his help. Not like this.  
He quickly climbed up to the trembling boy, waiting for him to do something since he read too much about people being actually scared of physical touch when experiencing attacks of any kind. And he couldn't know whether Alfred was one of those people or not.

He found out soon enough, when the other shot him a frightened look and wished he could run away from him, from the world...

"Go away..." He whispered, shifting as close to the edge of the bed as that was possible without falling.

"Whatever it is, I assure you it isn't real, so try and focus on anything around you that you're positive is real."

"I'm not hallucinating, Arthur! I know what's real and what's not. Just leave me alone!" He shouted again, followed by a string of mumbling things under his breath that only. He was able to hear.

Arthur was simply stunned. What was he supposed to do? Nothing added up. He pursed his lips as he tried to think, but he was out of ideas. So he just went with the trick he had seen many people use around loved ones who needed comfort during difficult moments.

"What can you hear? What is it saying to you? How loud is the noise?" He softly asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and making sure he was close enough for Alfred to feel safe, and far enough for him not to be afraid of him.

"A voice... But I can't understand what it's saying to me, so it just hurts me from all the screaming. It's senseless, I don't... I can't--"

"It's okay. Talk slowly, do not overwhelm yourself." The Englishman comforted the best he knew.

"It's cold in here..." Alfred shuddered, his voice weak and fragile. "Turn up the heating."

That was rather impossible, since it was a sunny, spring day and he was wearing his usual hoodie, and it concerned Arthur even more. And on top of that, the heating wasn't even on in the first place.  
Maybe Alfred just had a fever. Many people don't hear, feel or see right when their body temperature is far too high. But he was perfectly healthy earlier today, that was impossible!

"Alfred, have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"I-I don't know..."

That wasn't a reply good enough for Arthur if he wanted to properly help, dammit.

"Is this the first time you hear... Whatever it is that you're hearing?"

At first, he got no reply at all. Alfred just looked at him with the most perplexed, most frightened facial expression he had ever seen in his life.

"No." He then insinuated, almost in an inaudible volume, taking a deep, shaky breath and wiping off tears.

"Alright, well, it's important that you try to stay in touch with reality, okay? Can you do that for me? Tell me some things that you like hearing and try to imagine them. Describe them in detail and you can add senses other than hearing. What do you see when you hear them? Imagine that it's warm, perhaps a spring say in April and you're rather tired so you're lying on your bed."  
Arthur's tender, articulate voice was tranquilizing, and it managed to calm Alfred down in a short amount of time.

"I like listening to music, birds singing and many other peaceful sounds that I can't hear right now because of the loud voice in my head... It's not real, I'm trying to convince myself that is not real, but it's too strong for me to do that! I feel like it's trying to take over me, and I do not want it to take over me!"

"It's going to be okay, we are making progress already... Do you still feel cold?"

"No, not really... I'm fine, I'm completely fine, I'm real and you are not!" Alfred closed his eyes again and tried to shut the aggressive sound off, until nothing remained from it but a faint whisper in the distance.

He lay there in silence for a couple of minutes, taking deep breaths as Arthur was advising him, gathering his sanity back together and blinking a couple of times to clear his vision from tears.

"I... Don't know what got into me." He finally commented, terrified of his own mind and what power it held over him. "I swear I'm not crazy or anything, it was never this bad." Motioning for Arthur to finally come closer, the two cuddled up and tightly hugged for at least ten seconds, Alfred quickly kissing him on the lips.

"So it has really happened before?"

"Well, not exactly... It's more like I hear it almost all the time but rather quietly, and apparently it gets louder as I get angrier or panic, I cannot figure it out. It hasn't affected me much, and never caused me any distress up until now."

"For how long has it lasted?" Arthur questioned.

"I don't know, a couple of mo-- oh, for fuck's sake! You're psychoanalyzing me again, aren't you?!" He chuckled and gently hit Arthur on the top of his head, to which the other could just laugh.

"No, not at all...!" He gave a sarcastic response and could almost hear Alfred roll his eyes.

"But on a serious note, I'm so lucky to have you. It all happened so fast, the way we met and got together... And I'm loving every second of it."  
The American turned around so he could face his lover, gazing directly into his gorgeous forest green eyes that put him in a trance each time. "Thank you for helping me through whatever this thing was. I don't know how I would have handled it without you."

"I don't know whether a week into the relationship is too early to say it, but I don't really care. I love you, Alfred." Arthur said with wholehearted honesty in the tone of his voice.

"I love you, too."


	4. Chapter Four

The next morning when Alfred woke up, Gilbert and Elizabeta were already gone with the first flight, since they wanted the best out of spring break, and for that they needed to get going early to get to Hungary, more specifically, to Liz's parents.  
Adrienne and Matthew were just taking their leave, packing the rest of the things and saying goodbye to everyone and anyone they saw in the hallways. After all, their trip was much shorter and they had time on their hands. Canada wasn't that far.

The younger of the two American brothers couldn't get last night out of his head. Getting absolutely no sleep, he tumbled out of the room drowsily, forgetting to change into normal clothing so he just left his pyjamas on, and the first thing he saw in the hall in front of his little apartment was Matthew, crossing off the last thing they needed for the travel from the list he held in his hands.

"Morning", Alfred muttered, avoiding eye contact, but the other didn't reply and instead walked away pretending he didn't see or hear anyone.

That action just broke Alfred's heart. "I messed up so fucking much, didn't I...?" He whispered underneath his breath, letting out a small sigh out of disappointment in himself.

"Alfred! Why aren't you dressed?" Adrienne happily approached him, tightly embracing into a hug to which he could just stand there awkwardly. In all honesty, he needed a hug. It sometimes made things a little better.

"Oh... I guess I forgot." He chuckled, looking down for a shorter moment, then remembered he should probably put on a happy act so he wouldn't make anyone worried. "Where's Arthur, by the way? I haven't seen him yet this morning."

The girl shrugged apologetically and took him by the arm, immediately making him tense until she spoke up again. "Let's get you out of these pyjamas. You can sometimes be a total child, but at least you have us to take care of you. Isn't that right, Matthew?" She turned around and flashed a serious look to her boyfriend, but he only quickly nodded, not paying much attention to the words being said.

"So, you gonna pick out my clothes or not?" Alfred quickly tried to change the topic, wishing he didn't have to sound so rude.

"Right, right." She dragged him back into his dorm room, attacking the small wardrobe behind the door and taking out some fancy looking jeans along with a bright yellow hoodie with 'laziness is my middle name' on it in calligraphy. Of course Alfred would have something like that in his closet. "Okay, what's going on between you and Matt?" Once she shut the door tight, she threw the clothing onto the bed and demanded an answer. Instantly.

The boy didn't want to answer, but knew he wasn't going to be able to avoid the question. This was Adrienne, and she had to know everything.  
As he clumsily threw on the clothing over his pyjamas, he sat down on Arthur's bed and shrugged, pursing his lips before speaking again - a long, silent pause in between.  
"It's my fault, I said things I shouldn't have said and I got what I deserved."

"Adrienne, are we going?" She heard a voice from outside the door, and the irritated tone of it just made her heart drop. "We still need to stop by the supermarket!"

"I'll be there in a second!" Adrienne replied and turned back to the tired boy, gently taking his hand into hers. "Promise me you'll be fine... You know, Matthew and I have known each other for a long time and I've learned a lot about you in the meantime as well. And I realized that you really hate loneliness. Luckily, you'll have Arthur. Okay? You're never alone, it's a big world. And whatever happened between you and your brother, I swear, it will all be fixed by the time we come back. Understand?" Her gaze was fixed on Alfred's eyes, and he blinked a few times as if he was confused, nodding right after to give a positive response.

"Yeah... Thanks. I needed to hear that today."

"I get it. We're human, we cannot be happy all the time. When I'm having a bad day, I curl up to by blankets and watch videos or listen to music the entire day. And cry." They both laughed a little at the last sentence, hugging one more time.  
She got up, smiling to him gently, and walked out of the room to meet Matthew who was already close to lose all patience. He wasn't usually an angry person, but now he was experiencing betrayal for a reason he himself didn't truly understand.

The words 'I don't need you' echoed through his mind, and he didn't know what else to do but to just... Go with it. If Alfred didn't need him after all these years he took care of him, then so be if. He didn't need him either.

"Finally, we can go." He rolled his eyes, then tried to cover up his internal frustration with a string of awkward laughter.

"Are you a hundred percent sure you want to leave the city without settling things with your little brother?" Adrienne crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at her so obviously distressed lover.

"He doesn't need me."

\- - -

Alfred hated silence.

He despised it with all his being. It always somehow managed to speed up his heartbeat, made him anxious, even nauseous... And that had been happening ever since it was quiet in the house, without his mother's cheerful voice, fairytales and singing and father's infinite speeches about world peace fantasies.

Now he was completely alone, lying sideways on Arthur's bed since the Englishman wasn't there, and didn't even leave a note to say where he was going.

The voices inside of his mind were stronger than usual, but this time he could understand what some of them were saying here and there. And it was all negative, hateful speech pointing out all his bad deeds and insecurities. Even repeating the words he said in the heat of the fight with Matthew.  
Silence was always something that made them erupt more, as if they thought they were obliged to fill it so Alfred would feel safer, yet it just made him far more scared and detached from sanity.

You're so, so stupid. Acting like that towards him even after him catering you all these years.  
You're worthless, you deserve everything happening to you.  
What are you waiting for? Come on, push Arthur away, too. He deserves better.  
All your friends are leaving you, can't you see?

Stupid, so stupid. Against you. Useless. A failure. They hate you.

What are you going to do? Stay silent?  
Coward.  
Fight back.  
Destroy them.

You're an idiot. You know you are.

Alfred couldn't stand the jumbled mess of different voices and such terrible words that were being said. It physically hurt him, and he panicked, feeling out of his mind, absolutely insane. He jumped out of bed, running out of the room and towards the kitchen on the floor above, where students would usually gather to drink some coffee and talk. He needed to hear a normal voice coming from an actual person who, perhaps, didn't hate him and had nothing against him.  
But as he opened the glass door, he saw no one in there. Nobody, of course there was nobody in there.

They run away from you. They know.

What was happening to him?! A week ago, he could function properly, able to ignore the slightly annoying incoherent whispering in the back of his mind that would come back every once in a while, every time staying longer and longer.

"Get out of my head!" He shouted out, angrily slamming his hands onto the white counter of the kitchen, knowing that there was no one to see him in this irrational state anyway.

Taking deep breaths just like Arthur helped him to do last night, he tried his best to chase the inner demons away, yet nothing worked when he was left alone at the mercy of the Universe.  
He shakily reached for an empty glass from the cupboard above, filling it with tap water from the faucet in the sink.

He was taught that water was the best for clearing the mind and body, and at this point, what did he have to lose anyway?

Don't drink that, it's poisonous. Drop it. Spill it! Get away from it!

"I-I got it for myself! It's perfectly fine!" He yelled, but the tone came out more sad and less demanding.

He looked down at the glass, but it didn't look like water anymore. In fact, it did remind him of poison in a way. Kind of a filthy looking substance, spreading from the glass and onto his hand, giving him a burning sensation to which he responded by throwing it on the floor causing a shattering sound and jumping a step away. Yet there were no burn scars on the palm of his hand. That was strange.

You never listen, do you? Stupid, so stupid.

The voices kept repeating again and again, insulting him in all ways possible. They became clearer for him to hear what they tried to say, but that brought the boy no good.

Alfred had never felt so helpless before. As he looked around, the world seemed so distorted, and he couldn't draw the line between reality and fiction. It all melted into a single scene, the illusions and the remaining details of clarity. The room wasn't pure white and bright anymore, and the lively colours were replaced by a lack of light. He felt like he could throw up from the sheer confusion and fear.

"Get it together! This is not real!" He screamed at himself, repeating the last four words like a mantra. "This is not real!"

You don't know what is real and what is not.  
Maybe this is the reality that you thrive for.

"I'm pretty sure... I've lost my mind."  
Soon, Alfred broke into tears, but he didn't know he was crying in between the delusions and pictures of things that weren't really there and sounds that were all in his head.

For the first time, he missed pure silence. The screams got far too loud to handle, and he wanted them to go away before he hurt himself or someone else because of the things they were saying.

Tumbling down to the ground, surrounded by broken glass, he lost that last piece of rationality and let himself get lost in the fake existence and wrong perception created by his unhealthy, twisted mind.  
The poisoned water spread all over the floor, encircling him and making a prison he couldn't escape, and he couldn't simply tell himseld it wasn't real anymore, because he didn't know.

"Alfred?" He only heard a faint sound in the distance, perhaps a familiar voice. "Goodness, I've looked everywhere to find you! What is going on? Why is that bloody glass around you and why, for the love of god, are you crying on the floor?"

"Get away from me... Whoever you are, just go! It isn't safe here, please, leave!" The American was shaking and trembling immensely, feeling a well known presence appear next to him, though he couldn't figure out who or what it was.

"It's me, it's Arthur... Don't you recognize me?" The Brit's voice sounded slightly hurt, and the next thing Alfred knew was that there was a hand gently placed on his shoulder. He flinched, aimlessly thrashing around to push the other away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Please, tell me what's going on, are you hearing things again?"

Alfred couldn't muster out another word for the next minute or two, his breathing turned to hyperventilating, he barely heard Arthur's voice over the crowd in his head and all he could do was wait. Wait for it to turn to normal, or let this become the new normal.  
"Are you against me as well? Are you the one who distorted my vision?" He hysterically sobbed through speaking, curling up to his knees.

"Vision?" Arthur whispered to himself, furrowing his eyebrows as he was thinking. "What can you currently see?"

"Who are you to ask?! You... You caused it! You will use it against me, you'll take my life!"

"Right, I'm calling a real psychologist. You were correct the day we met, I'm just a college kid. It makes sense, since I cannot help you with whatever you're dealing with right now." The helpless Englishman took a couple of steps back from the shivering boy, taking out his cell phone about to call for help. He couldn't do this own his own, and obviously, neither could Alfred.

"You're going to tell the whole world, aren't you? Fine! Turn everybody against me!"

He knows. He is going to hurt you.  
Are you a coward, or will you hurt him before he does it to you?

"I don't want to hurt you, Arthur... Please, please, go away..." A part of him remained self aware, yet the paranoid state now ruled both his body and mind. "Don't call them, Arthur, stay with me... No, go away! Don't go!"

Arthur stood and listened to the endless string of senseless screams, dearly hoping that no one could hear this since it could cause some commotion. Luckily, many students weren't at campus currently, and those who were hung out outside. There was no way they could be heard. "I'll stay. I won't call them, but I'll stay no matter what you say or do. I know you don't want to hurt me, I won't take it against you if you try. This isn't you, this isn't real... Can you repeat that after me? What you hear and what you see isn't the real form of reality." He knelt down, and despite Alfred's weak protest managed to embrace him tightly, making him unable to move and actually harm anyone if that was the intention of the voices he could hear.

"What I hear... A-and what I see..."

"Isn't the real form of reality." Arthur finished instead of him. The longer sentences, the better, since the distraction was bigger.

"Isn't... What?" Alfred sounded confused and scared, still not noticing he sat surrounded by sharp shards of glass that Arthur tried to gently remove one by one.

"Reality. Those voices aren't real. And the pictures aren't, either. I am not against you, no one is."

"You're lying... I know Matthew is against me, my brother, my only family, he hates me and I told him I-I don't need him..."

For the next twenty minutes, Arthur patiently comforted the boy, reminding him how much he appreciated him, convinced him to stay in touch in reality, whispered soft words of comfort and held him tightly against his own body so they could both feel the warmth. Alfred trembled against him, constantly repeating nonsense words and contradictions, explaining how everybody was against him and retelling the things he saw, the prison cell of poison and the cold surrounding his body again.  
To Arthur, it was unimaginable, but he tried his best to understand so he would somehow be able to help.

And he did it, because about half an hour later when they were both back in their room - which took heavy, heavy steps for Alfred - the American said that the screams quieted down a bit and that he could hear better now, though the distorted images were still there, frightening him to the core.

But he had Arthur next to him. The only person who maybe, just maybe, wasn't against him.

Yet his paranoid self kept telling him that Arthur was the one ruining his mind.

A contradiction, he was simply a walking contradiction.


	5. Chapter Five

"I can't believe we're in Canada!" Matthew excitedly exclaimed as he looked around at his surroundings, a genuine smile plastered on his face. They were in Montréal, and were going to stay for two full weeks with Adrienne's parents who were dying to meet their daughter's boyfriend who they had heard so much about.

"Yeah, finally home." She chuckled lightheartedly and, together with Matthew, carried their luggage over to the building they were staying in. "Keep in mind, my parents don't actually speak English that well, so it's best we switch to French."

They were both incredibly glad to be here, each for their own reasons, but Matthew felt relief. He needed time away from college, America and away from Alfred, especially after what happened just a day earlier. Perhaps the younger was right, they didn't need each other as much as Matthew made it seem in his head.  
Alfred would be perfectly fine, he convinced himself.

And even if he wasn't going to be okay, who was he to care? Alfred clearly stated his thoughts, and Matthew was never the one to forgive too easily. It was a great form of betrayal to him - to get such words from someone he tried his best to take care of for twelve years. The only member of the Jones family, except him, who was still there. So wasn't going to forget Alfred's little anger breakdown just yet.

For now, he would take his mind off it and meet the people who soon might be his new family, if everything went according to his secret plan.

As they entered the house, they were awaited by two older looking people, both dressed in clothing just as fancy as Adrienne's. Oh, it was so obvious they were related.

"Oh, you are already here!" The lady spoke in articulated French, and suddenly they were both embraced in a tight hug by her. She had long, brown hair, a lighter shade than Adrienne, fixed up in a ponytail that reached her back. "It's so nice to see you both! My name is Jeanne, and this is my husband Pierre. I assume you're Matthew? We've heard so many wonderful things about you!" And with another hug, they were finally let into the house, the suitcases behind them almost forgotten until the father carefully took them in.

"Yes, Matthew Jones. Pleased to meet you!" He smiled, trying his best to pronounce French words without embarrassing himself. Even if he spoke it fluently, he hadn't actually used the language in years, so he needed to suddenly get out all his knowledge and actually speak in it with people.

"An American who speaks a language other than English? Never thought I'd meet one." Pierre gave a sarcastic remark, followed by a light push from his wife. They all laughed cheerfully, glad to finally be together in one place.

The boy accommodated himself in the house pretty quickly, and Adrienne's parents immediately treated him as if they had known him for three years, not three seconds.

Twenty minutes into the family gathering, and he already ate a bunch of Jeanne's homemade cookies, drank a glass of the finest red wine and managed to hear their entire life story.

He decided he really liked these people.

"I hope you're taking good care of our daughter", the father said, perhaps in a more serious tone, as he took another sip of his drink.

"She's an independent woman, I doubt she needs me to take care of her." Matthew chuckled, earning a satisfied look from her parents. "But I try my best to keep her safe just as much as she keeps me safe. It's mutual."

Adrienne softly smiled at him, missing their affection and gentle words exchanged. Lately, they were both under a lot of stress from work and planning, so hearing even the slightest thing made her heart melt.

"I like you a lot, Matthew. I'm glad that Adrienne has found someone like you." Jeanne stated with confidence as she came back from the kitchen with another bowl of cookies and a plate of cakes, even if they hadn't even eaten all of the previous ones. "You know, her first romance could have ruined her, just as it had ruined me before I found Pierre... That's why it matters to me so much that she has a kind, loving boy like you. I don't want her to go through the same, horrible things."

"I assure you, mother, Matthew is nothing like that. I knew it right when I met him, he's the one." Adrienne shifted closer towards him, and he instantly felt a wave of shyness wash over him. He wasn't the best with public affection at times.

After having a decent conversation, Adrienne took him around the house a bit, showing him the bedrooms and the guest room in which he wouldn't be sleeping in because she wanted him next to herself. That's just where they threw all of his stuff so it wouldn't take up as much space in the room they shared.

"I'm so happy we have time for each other once again." Matthew said in a soft tone, glad to finally switch back to English, gently wrapping his arms around Adrienne to bring them closer together. She immediately pressed their lips together, melting into the kiss for a longer moment before they pulled away with a loving look in their eyes.

"Let's take a rest, we had a long travel." She suggested, and he agreed without any hesitation.

But as soon as they made themselves comfortable on the bed, they were interrupted by Matthew's phone ringing from the bedside table. He sighed out of annoyance and glanced towards the small screen.

The caller was no one but Alfred.

"Are you going to answer?" She asked carefully.

"What do you think?" He rolled his eyes, declining the call and turning off his phone all in quick movements, throwing the device onto the floor. "I couldn't care less."

And with that statement, he kissed her once again and left all of his worries in the dust.

\- - -

"He isn't answering my calls."

Alfred sat curled up next to Arthur on the Englishman's bed, still trying to calm down from everything that took place earlier in the cafeteria.  
Now it was evening, and his mind still wouldn't gather itself together. The faint sound of different voices echoed around him, but at least they weren't as loud as before, and the pictures in front of him slowly morphed from reality to delusion, back and forth, making him nauseous at times. Since it was his first time experiencing it with such intensity, it was natural that he'd be scared, but Arthur was there to help him through every second of it.  
He wanted to apologize to Matthew and fix things, but apparently the brother didn't want to, and that made things a hundred times more difficult.

"Perhaps they are still travelling, don't worry." Arthur tried convincing him.

"I'm sure he hates me after what I said." The American shakily said, leaning his head against Arthur's shoulder since it felt like he was the only person he could trust, even if they met only about a week ago.

"Everyone says foolish things in the heat of the moment. And he loves you, you know that. He might need some time away, though. Do not fret, Alfred."

Even if he wanted to trust Arthur with his life, there was a part of him that wanted to destroy their relationship and isolate from everyone just to make sure he wouldn't get hurt. And it took a lot of self control not to do it. To ignore the voices' senseless demands.

"Do you think I'm crazy, Arthur?"

"What? Why?" The Brit raised an eyebrow at the sudden question, holding the other tighter for extra comfort. And oh, Alfred smelled nice. He could get lost in the scent and the warmth far too easily.

"Because of... Well, all of this! I don't... I don't feel like we belong to the same reality, you know. I've been floating around in a different dimension for quite some time now, and I just cannot explain it without sounding crazy." The younger spoke, and it sounded kind of broken.

"I'm a future psychologist. If I call a person with hallucinations crazy or insane, that's just bloody wrong. You just need help from someone who actually specializes in that field." Arthur shrugged, the word crazy didn't even occur to him in the first place.

"What if you're the one hallucinating, and I'm the one seeing true reality?" Alfred huffed, crossing his arms like a child. "Don't accuse me."

"Alfred, listen to me. Do you really think seeing yourself trapped in a prison cell made out of poisonous water sounds like something nature would let happen?"

"Well, it happened to me! You don't know anything!"

"Whoa, where is this coming from? Please, speak all you want, just don't shout..."

Alfred quickly got up, pushing Arthur away as anger took over once again. Blood rushed to his face, and on a moment he blacked out, luckily managing to stand steadily nonetheless.  
"I have to, since it most probably won't get to your head any other way! I don't want to feel like this, I didn't choose to feel like this, but I can't help to think that reality, as you know it, is all fake. So what, my stories seem like a delusion to you, then how do you explain me seeing and feeling all of that? And if the voices aren't real, then why do they tell me to--"

"What do they tell you, Alfred?" Arthur sat up, in all honesty a bit scared to approach the other. He didn't know if Alfred was furious enough to hurt him right there.

"T-they tell me to yell at you..." With a mortified facial expression, the boy brought his hand to his forehead, pressing it tightly as if he was trying to stop a headache. "Why is this happening to me? Please, why can't it stop?!" He almost desperately screamed, pacing around the room in quick steps, panic washing over him. The morphing between reality and fiction quickly merged into one, confusing picture, and the darkened space around him was coming closer, and closer, suffocating him and replacing oxygen with a horrible scent along with a cold flash sending shivers down his spine. He tried to push away those walls surrounding him, but it didn't work. He was too weak. Breaking out in a coughing fit, he collapsed onto the ground and cried Arthur's name out loud, tightly gripping the edge of the bed.

Arthur looked horrified. He immediately jumped to help the struggling boy, but it wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"Go away...!" He shouted in between coughs. "It's going to kill you!"

"There is nothing there! You need to get out of this room, for goodness sake, this isn't healthy for you... Quick, name three places where you love spending your time the most." The Englishman tried to keep calm, since they needed a rational mind around.

"I-I don't fucking know! Just hide before it takes you, too!"

For a second, Arthur wanted to turn away and leave Alfred to his own despair. He wished to rest, it was a day off after all and he had just moved to America a week ago.  
But now he had to deal with his delusional roommate who was also his boyfriend, and a part of him was so close to working for his selfishness and escaping the room.

Yet he couldn't.

"Take my hand." He approached the younger, holding out his hand for the other to help himself when getting up.

"No, there's no time, we need to run, now--"

"We are going to, if you take my hand right now. I can save you from it." On a moment, he sounded nonsensical to himself. What were they running from, anyway? In his mind, the room looked perfectly fine, but in Alfred's, he was just about to get choked by a narrow passage getting closer.

So the American obediently took his hand in a shaky, frightened movement, and the next thing he knew was being pulled up and lead out of the room, feeling himself get embraced tightly right after there was a loud doorslam.  
"I still feel cold..." He said, his speech badly slurred the entire time because he couldn't even hear himself over his own mind.

There was a brown haired girl passing by in the hallway, stopping as she saw Arthur hugging the shivering boy to his chest.  
"Uh, is he alright?" She curiously asked in an obvious foreign accent that the Brit couldn't clearly detect. "Do you guys need any help?"

"I-it's difficult to explain..." Arthur stuttered out just barely, his socially anxious self was never the best at speaking to strangers, even if they just kindheartedly offered a hand. "But no, thanks."

"I mean, it's a bit weird seeing Alfred Jones, basically the most popular guy here, being awkwardly hugged by the new kid and crying, but it's no surprise. We always knew something was off with him, ever since we saw him talk to himself in the park." She chuckled, and it didn't sound as friendly as the words spoken earlier.

"Arthur, I-I hear someone talking about me... Is it just in my head...?" Alfred's voice came out not only scared, but tired in the same time, not fully coherent. And Arthur tried his best to understand it.

"Don't bother with it, love, attempt to focus on my voice only." He soothingly said, running his fingers through the other's golden locks of hair.

The girl just stood perplexed, nothing added up to her. "I'll just leave you two to it. It seems to me I'm making him even more confused. But... If he's really hearing voices or anything, there's a school counselor. Why are you even bothering with him? There's nothing you can do to help."

Arthur couldn't beat that argument. She was right, and he might have brought Alfred even more harm by trying to calm him in insignificant ways.

"...I don't know who you are, but you're right." He muttered, noticing how all this time, Alfred's heartbeat only increased and he began whispering inaudible things that he couldn't clearly comprehend. "Let's go, Alfred, I know people who can help."

"No! Don't take me to them!" The boy managed to free himself from Arthur's tight grip, pushing him away with a noticeably fearful look in his teary blue eyes. "They just want to hurt me!"

"Cut it out, Jones, stop making a scene." The girl rolled her eyes, approaching him in two quick steps and taking him by both of his hands so he wouldn't be the one harming anyway in case of an anger fit. "No one wants to hear it anyway." She bitterly spoke, making him even more paranoid than he was before.

His mind saw this as an attack, and he couldn't help but try and free himself once again. "B-but I don't understand--"

"I don't think he's faking it." Arthur said seriously.

"Do you really believe him? It's because you're new around here. He can be such an attention seeker at times, always throwing a pity party for himself."

"Your words are suspicious, as someone who actually knows how to empathize and connect with those who are actually struggling." He spat out angrily, pushing her away as he realized Alfred was on the verge of an enormous panic breakdown. It could have been a level of sensory overload along with the delusions, and he knew he needed to get him away from here as quickly as possible.

"You'll learn through time. I was going to help you with him but... Have fun discovering it the hard way."

And a part of Arthur was almost gullible enough to believe her words.

What if Alfred was faking it?


	6. Chapter Six

Alfred was terrified.

Everything was falling apart around him far too quickly and he wasn't able to stop it no matter how loud he screamed at his own mind. In a way, he was lucky not to go through this alone, but with Arthur by his side, yet it was still incredibly difficult to find the positive about such a thing. He had never experienced such an intense panic attack and hallucinations as frightening as what he saw that day, and the usual whispering in his head turned into angry shouting of hate speach instead.

And he still managed to convince Arthur not to take him to a counselor, thinking how those people just wanted to hurt him even more instead of helping him. He believed that everyone was against him, and had a strange feeling that Arthur was the one who distorted his vision, although a rational part of him tried to think differently.

Now he was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, but he didn't recognize the person in the reflection. It was all disfigured, the reality around him twisted and deformed just like he, in his own eyes, was too.  
"What is happening to me?" He whispered as tears made their way down his pale cheeks and ended up in the sink he held onto with a tight grip. "This isn't me... I'm happy, I've always been happy... Despite everything."

Your happiness was just an illusion.

No wonder everyone turned against you. Who would want to be around your fake smile and annoying voice?

Nobody ever liked you.

Matthew was right for leaving you.

You're stupid, so stupid...

If somebody saw him, the first word they would assign him was insane, since he made it clear to each and every voice in his head that those things weren't correct. And he said it out loud.

He wondered what made them louder. He was curious about what could have happened for his mind to go abnormally unhealthy in such a short amount of time.

Arthur had multiple theories about it, but he was not sure if Alfred was up for discussion about them, so he rather kept the thoughts to himself.

"It's my punishment for saying all those things to Matthew, it must be..." The boy sighed, turning away from the disgraceful picture he saw in the mirror. He walked out of the polished white bathroom, closing the door behind himself and trying his best not to cry. It was already quite late in the night, and those who were on campus most probably all soundly slept by now. Including Arthur. Only Alfred aimlessly walked around the hallways with a goal to escape the visions that just kept following him.

He decided to attempt sleeping once more, no matter how scared he currently was.  
Going back to the room he shared with Arthur, Alfred silently climbed up onto the top bed - almost losing balance along the way - and quickly covered himself with the blankets fully so there would be nothing but complete darkness. If anything, darkness was better than a twisted version of reality.

Silence. One of your greatest fears, isn't that right?

Or is it the voices that you're scared of, and not the soundless night?

Shit. There was no sleep for him tonight, no matter how hard he tried.

Instead of staying in bed with only a blanket protecting him from the opened Pandora's box in his head, he climbed back down hoping he wouldn't wake up Arthur and walked straight over to his painting supplies.

All he needed was a big, raspy blank paper and watercolours, and his every fear and doubt could be poured out of his soul.  
Turning on the lamp on his desk and hoping that the light it gave was weak enough to keep Arthur asleep, but at the same time strong enough for him to see, he took a paintbrush and soaked it in water that stood on the desk for a couple of days now for good five seconds, before tapping it onto the dark blue watercolour and running it over the white surface of the paper.

He painted in simple movements, just getting his emotions out to create another masterpiece. There was no time for oil or canvas. At the moment, only art existed, a mixture of colours blinding his vision until it was projected in front of him on what would soon become a decent painting. Red, all shades of red in the shape of a waterfall, to get rid of anger and frustration, and black on the edges to signify the darkness surrounding his mind. The words written in light grey were every bad things that the voices told him. All in all, the work was a complete mess, and whoever saw it would probably send him to a therapist just in case. The amount of detachment from sanity it showed was almost unreal. And only that glint of yellow in the top right corner was meant to represent hope, light and forgiveness.

Too bad it was overpowered by the dark.

As he was about to put the art supplies down on the desk after a satisfied hour long painting session, he accidentally pushed the glass with the water off of the desk, and in the attempt of saving it before it hit the floor, tripped over nothing but thin air and fell down right next to it, a loud crash echoing through the room along with shards of broken glass making their way everywhere over the floor. He gasped in fear, seeing as Arthur jolted upwards in bed and wore the most terrifying facial expression he had seen in his life.

"Alfred, what the bloody hell are you doing?!" He was near shouting if it wasn't for his voice hoarse from soundly sleeping. "Please don't tell me you're painting at, like, three in the morning..."

The younger boy blinked in embarrassment, sitting up on the wooden floor surrounded by spilled painting water and glass. There was paint everyhwere, not just on the paper. His vision hadn't gained clarity just yet, so that was no surprise. "Uh..." He was at a loss for words, afraid to make direct eye contact with Arthur who was now fully awake, getting out of bed with fuming fury. "I'm sorry... I needed to do it."

"You know what you really need to do? Sleep. You need to sleep and forget about it. I didn't move all the way to the goddamn United States to deal with this! Have mercy on others, for goodness' sake, and go to sleep!" He yelled at the American who was still helplessly sitting on the ground, sick and tired of having to take care of him like a child even throughout the night. It was a long and bothersome week for them both.

"I'm sorry, I really am... I'll clean up the mess, you can sleep." Alfred gave a saddened whisper, holding onto the edges of the desk to get up and gain balance on his feet again.

"Turn off the light and go sleep. We'll clean this up in the morning." Arthur spat out, not caring about anything else at the moment besides getting a good night's rest.

"But I'm... I'm a bit scared."

"Then sleep next to me or something. Just let me rest a bit, please." He sighed and got back to bed, turning around to lie sideways and covering himself firmly with a blanket.

Alfred pursed his lips together, upset because he managed to make Arthur shout, and he felt even more guilty than before. "I know I'm a burden to you." He insinuated incoherently and turned off the lamp, carefully walking over to Arthur's bed so he wouldn't step on broken glass.

Oh, sleep now seemed like only a distant dream.

\- - -

The next morning, all the way in Montréal, Canada, Matthew woke up in an unfamiliar area. It took him a couple of moments to comprehend where he was, and when he finally understood, a small smile formed in the corner of his lips.

Looking around, he spotted Adrienne sleeping next to him, hair messy and lightly snoring - and if she was still out like a light, that means he hadn't badly overslept, because she was usually up way after him in the first place.

He looked at the clock on the wall, it wasn't even nine yet. Thank goodness. A big part of him felt incredibly stressed today, since he had a great thing planned for tonight and he had doubts about how everything would work out for him.

Slowly rustling the blankets around so they'd make as little sound as possible, Matthew got out of bed and quickly got ready for the day. He knew waiting for Adrienne to wake up would be a waste of time. If he was to do that, they'd be there for hours.

In the living room, he was awaited by Jeanne and Pierre watching television on the couch and simultaneously solving crosswords and sudokus. Multitasking at its finest.  
"Good morning", he said in clear French, giving them a soft smile and heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.  
Everything felt so nice. He didn't care about ignoring countless calls from his brother. He didn't even think of Alfred's heartbroken look when he turned his head away from him.

A part of him did think he acted way too childish and didn't hear the other's full opinion and feelings, but, clearly said, he didn't give a shit.

"Morning, sweetheart. Have you had a good night's sleep?" Adrienne's mother gently asked, and Matthew simply nodded as a response.

Come on, you can do it, talk to them about it... I know it's only the second day here, but you have to ask them before evening falls.

"I need to... Talk to you two about something." Getting the courage to say it, he left the glass of water on the kitchen sink and headed towards the empty spot on the couch. "Is that alright?"

"Sure, darling. What is it you would like to say?" She replied without hesitation.

Matthew wasn't used at the names like darling or sweetheart since Adrienne rarely used them, and he hadn't heard them from his parents in about twelve years. He couldn't complain, though. It felt quite nice.

"I... Crap, this is actually difficult." He chuckled, taking a deep breath before contiuing. "I'd like to propose to Adrienne tonight, but I needed to see if that's okay to you... I'm new to this, and that's usually what they do in American movies, so--"

Seeing as he began rambling out of nervousness, the parents both burst into lighthearted laughter, interrupting him before he could say any more senseless words. "Of course, do you even have to ask? I think those movies of yours must be centuries old. And even if that was an actual thing, we'd say go for it! If this is what you expected to hear... Well, then, you have our blessing." Pierre spoke for both of them, and Jeanne just nodded to each word as a way of agreeing.

"Absolutely. Oh god, this is so exciting! Our daughter is getting engaged soon!" She happily said, but Matthew just shook his head.

"She hasn't said yes yet, don't get too excited."

"Dear boy, she's been dreaming of it since day one."

\- - -

Not everyone had such a lovely morning, though. Not everyone was freed of worry, fears or shame.

Alfred was wide awake all throughout the night, comforted by Arthur's soft embrace and warm breath tingling his skin, and he barely even moved. Staring and attempting to concentrate on a single piece of nothingness, he wished that things could go back to normal. And he had hope they would, yet knew it most probably was not going to happen.

The words Arthur shouted at him during the accident at about three in the morning rang through his mind, and he couldn't forget the Englishman's furious eyes when he was woken up.

He knew he was nothing but a burden to him, and that he would most probably end up left behind to perish as he drowned in scents of smoke and pictures of ash and dust created by his own twisted imagination.  
Convinced that all of his previous happiness and confidence was also merely an illusion, he had nothing left of his true self. It was unbelievable how quickly he disappeared in the screams and lies his brain made louder and more negative as time passed.

For the first time in a long while, he recalled the day his parents lost their life, the exact moment he found himself hopelessly trying to warn his mother the second before their vehicle met the truck on the other side of the road. No one else noticed but him. But he said it when it was far too late.  
The next thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital and being told he had a major head injury and barely got out alive. And finding out he and Matthew were alone in this great, insanely scary world.

He was ungrateful, that's what he was in his own eyes. Matthew tried his best to take care of him even when things got extremely rough, and he thanked him by saying how he doesn't need him.

What a way to act on your emotions.

You're just scared, do you understand? And your fear made you fuck up. Now you lost him.

Alfred didn't know what he hated more. Being yelled at by Arthur or getting Matthew to turn his head away from him.

The only thing he knew was that he was now deprived of sanity, and there was no way to get it back.

He was frightened of having to drop out of college if it worsened.

He didn't want to leave everything he loved and the only things he had in life.

Yet faith was something he had lost years ago.

To Alfred Jones, there was no god. And there never would be a god as long as suffering existed.


	7. Chapter Seven

A little bit later, Arthur had finally woken up and got ready for the day, realizing how he already overslept and stayed in bed until two in the afternoon. He was just extremely exhausted from everything that happened in the past week, and a little bit of extra rest was never a bad thing.

He instantly went to get himself a cup of coffee, slightly ashamed for yelling at Alfred during the night yet at the same time weirdly proud about standing up for himself, since he was usually the one to stay silent instead of fighting back. Joining some of the students in the cafeteria, he took his drink and sat next to the window where a blonde haired girl quietly read something on her Kindle and softly sipped tea.

"So, have you finally realized he's faking it?"

Arthur looked up after hearing a familiar voice, finding himself face to face with the girl who saw them in the hallway not so long ago, the same person who immediately accused Alfred of doing everything for attention.

"I-I'm not sure." He let out a long exhale, taking a sip of coffee. And she sat right next to him, on the only empty seat remaining in the room. "It seems quite real to me, but I can never know until he lets me take him to a psychiatrist."

"He's probably refusing to go because he knows he's acting and doesn't want to get caught." She shifted closer to the Englishman, crossing her legs and glancing at him almost in a flirtatious manner. "My name is Emma, by the way. I know yours, it's only fair you know mine."

Arthur blinked in confusion, gathering his thoughts before he could muster out a sentence over all the social anxiety that suddenly encircled him. "Uh, good to know. But why are you so eager to discuss Alfred's case? He's my boyfriend, not yours, no matter how rude that might have sounded."

"I heard you shouting at him at about three this morning. You know, I sleep in the room across, and you two can be super loud." Emma continued, completely ignoring his remark. "What was going on?"

"That's none of your business!" After that question, he couldn't help but snap at her. But he still made a mental note to himself not to shout as loudly around nosy people who wanted to know things that weren't supposed to be their problem.

"Geez, calm, I just asked one thing..." The girl rolled her eyes, but didn't make an effort to shift away from him.

For a couple of seconds, the entire cafeteria turned towards them, still, it didn't last that long since everyone minded their own business and couldn't care less about someone fighting. As long as no one got physically hurt.

"He woke me up, alright? I was tired, and he decided to bloody paint in the middle of the night and pushed a glass off the desk. If you really want to know. So I got annoyed and mindlessly shouted. I didn't mean to, but sometimes I don't think before I speak."

"Sounds like a nuisance, if you ask me." Emma chuckled, fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask you." Arthur replied with venom in his voice and got off the chair to leave, but she still followed right after him. "Why are you coming with me, for goodness' sake?!" He asked in perplexion, his voice going high pitched for a moment.

Emma just impatiently groaned, shutting the door behind them after they left, grabbing Arthur by the hand before he could turn away and walk down the hallway without her. "Wait!" She managed to make him stop in his tracks. "I want to talk!"

"Can you leave me alone? I literally just woke up." He glared at her top to bottom.

"I'm sorry, I'm too curious... But in all honesty, if it turns out that he is being truthful about it, I'm here to help." She said with a glint of seriousness in her eyes, still having a soft grip on Arthur's hand. "I can also get carried away with things."

Arthur pursed his lips together, thinking about a proper answer for some time. "I-I guess, uh, thank you, then?"

"Don't thank me. Just accept it. It's not often I'm willingly helping."

"I totally get you on that one." He laughed lightheartedly.

He didn't expect to make friends with her in such a short amount of time, especially since they had started off on the wrong foot.

Hopefully Alfred was truthful about his feelings.

\- - -

The young American was trying to get more rest, covering himself with all possible blankets and trying not to get noticed by Arthur as he was returning back to the room. He wanted to isolate himself with the hope that everything would soon turn normal again - the twisted images, the noises, he kept trying to erase them from his mind but it was always a failure.

As Arthur walked back into their shared room, Alfred nearly shivered at the sound of footsteps, burying his face in the pillow and making no sound. Paranoid, always paranoid, searching for irrational things that could kill him even if a part of him still understood that it wouldn't happen.

"You alright there?" The Brit noticed him anyway, asking casually as he closed the door behind himself and left the half empty cup of coffee on the work desk. 

Alfred didn't answer, and instead just shifted closer to the wall, pulling the bedsheets over his head. 

He's going to shout at you again, block it out, block it out...

"No... It's you that I want to block out..." He mumbled to the voices, making Arthur a bit confused.

"What did you say?"

He hates you, too. He doesn't want to be with you.

The boy rolled over to the edge of the top bed, only slightly peaking over the bed sheets. "Arthur... Do you hate me?" He barely had the courage to ask, but needed an answer that would finally silence the evil creatures who kept telling him how worthless he was to this world.

"Alfred, what kind of a question is that? Of course I don't hate you! Come on, talk to me, what's wrong?" The other shook his head, letting out a long exhale and crossing his arms instinctively. 

"Then why did you yell at me? I-I didn't mean to break that glass last night!"

"I shouted because I was tired. And you were... Well, bothering a little bit, I'm afraid to say..." He shrugged apologetically. "Also, I talked to Emma a bit more, and now I'm not sure if you're faking all of this or not." 

"Faking?! Do you really think I want all of this happening to me? Do you seriously believe that bitch over me? I can't believe you! I knew you were against me all along!" Alfred jolted upwards, snapping at Arthur with a rage in his eyes, a rage that was quiet just seconds ago. It was so easy for him to burst out in a fit of anger. 

He doesn't believe you.

You're such an attention whore.

"I mean, how am I supposed to know? You see, there are people who act that way for attention, and you were literally the happiest guy I've ever seen only a bit over a week ago. How did you change so abruptly? Is that even possible? I'm sorry if it is true after all, but... I am quite sleepless about everything lately." Arthur started to get frustrated by the boy's words.

"I-I'm suffering, Arthur, can't you understand? I wish I weren't a nuisance to you, but it is what it is, I can't really go and just say oh, from now on, I won't fucking hear voices anymore, can I?!" He was near screaming, constantly blinking back tears threatening to spill.

"Okay, okay, don't yell..."

"You're the one yelling!"

"You know what? I'm done with you, Alfred! I'm bloody done! I didn't move to the United States of America just to fall in love with an overdramatic teenager, honestly! I want to get a good education and leave, I don't have time for this... I'm so sorry, you're just-" 

"An attention whore? Stupid? Annoying? Irritating? Go ahead, I've heard them all, and rarely from actual people." Alfred started crying, unable to hold back anymore, his voice getting hoarse from the screaming mixed with desperate sobbing.

"Have you heard? I said I'm done, so you can stop whining now!" Arthur growled out and threw the boy a sharp glare, keeping up the tough facade so he wouldn't burst into tears himself. He didn't know what came to him. He just ended his first ever relationship and also insulted someone he actually liked. 

Only because he believed more and more that he wasn't telling the truth.

As Alfred realized what just happened, he saw Arthur heading towards the door and he couldn't help but try and jump out of bed to stop him. It was a reflex, but it was a rather bad idea to jump from a two meter high bunk bed. "W-wait, Arthur, don't leave!" He frantically stuttered out, but when the Brit saw what the other was going to do, he couldn't simply leave.

"Alfred, don't do that, you goddamn idiot! You're going to hurt yourself! Stay up there, please!"

"But if I don't, you'll go away!"

"I won't... I swear, I won't go anywhere..." He sighed, shaking his head as he understood he was unable to leave as long as Alfred was trying to put himself in any kind of dangerous situation, even if it meant simply jumping out of bed. "But it doesn't mean I take back anything I said, I'll just stay here so you don't end up breaking your bones. Attention seeker or not, I wouldn't want seeing you dead either way."

Approaching their beds, he climbed up to where Alfred was sitting and the boy immediately shifted entirely towards the wall, away from all the fears and dangers that could have been waiting for him. The psychotic cries went as far as telling him to end his own life for his own good and protection. But he wouldn't do that, no, because the remaining bits of sanity in his mind kept reminding him of hope that might have still been there.

"I swear, I swear to anything you want, I am not faking any of this... Isn't it obvious?" His voice was weak and trembling, and Arthur stopped for a longer moment to think about the entire situation - perhaps he was the one overreacting. Maybe Emma was totally wrong and just managed to make him fall for something that wasn't right. But again, Arthur didn't know right from wrong, sometimes he dove right into happenings without any logic or analysis.

The first day he met Alfred, he noticed how the boy would look away a lot, he was extremely fidgety, and despite the cheerful, laid back style he showed on the first meet-up, he still seemed incredibly stressed. He shook his head a lot even when no one was looking, and slapped himself to snap out of thoughts. He whispered to himself, talked in his dreams (if he slept at all), and the painting he did last night was quite disturbing to look at. Finding him crying on the kitchen floor was painful enough to watch. There was a great possibility that Alfred was experiencing all of this years later because of the traffic accident he was in when he was only a child.

Reasonably, people would conclude that he had serious issues. Yet it didn't fully make sense to Arthur. Emma said that other students also thought he was merely seeking for attention. Could he believe her words, or were her friendly glances and soft voice born of nothing but lies?

Whatever he thought now, it could have easily been too late. He told Alfred he was done. Was that meant he broke up with him, or was it perceived as a simple anger outburst?

"I don't know, Alfred... It's all so confusing." Arthur placed his hands over his face, the movement followed by running his fingers through the blonde locks of his hair.

"You know, you'd make a terrible psychologist." Alfred tried to laugh through the pain, but it just seemed awkward, unrealistic, fake, and not as happy as his wholehearted laughter used to resonate through the hallways.

"You don't say?" The other just scoffed, crossing his arms in defense. "Listen... I might have conflicting emotions about whatever it is you're going through, but I went too far when I said I was done. I don't want to be done with you." He admitted, but barely.

"I knew that. I might be insane, but I can still read the atmosphere. After all, I-I understand that I'm making you sleepless. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm an idiot, such an idiot, screaming at the one I love... For goodness' sake, I hoped I have changed by now."

"So... What do we do now? It's not like I can stop acting like this, but I don't want to make you tired of me." Alfred finally found the courage to move slightly towards Arthur, yet kept a safe distance nonetheless.

He's trying to deceive you with niceness...

Just to break you again.

Do you really want to be broken again?

Or you understand you deserve the pain?

"I'd suggest we kiss, but I can feel you're trying to stay a tiny bit away. Suppose it's for safety, so I'm not going to push--"

His words were interrupted by Alfred, who let down his guards and just let himself get lost in Arthur's forest green eyes and enchanting gaze that took away the pain for at least a second. He pressed his lips against the Brit's, bringing both of them down onto the bed as he fell on top of the other. At the moment, his instinct overweighed the fear, and all he could do was love and show that love in the most intimate way.

"Idiot. So stupid. A total fool, you are." He whispered as he pulled away to take a deep breath. "Yet I've still fallen for you."

"The same goes to you, Alfred."

\- - -

In the evening

A little bit farther away, well, more specifically in Montreal, Canada, a happy couple had just arrived at a fancy French restaurant dressed at their finest - Adrienne Bonnefoy, in a short black dress that reached down to her knees, brown hair in her usual ponytail, only now there was a fancy ribbon on black-and-white polka dots attached to the rubber band holding it up. And, of course, Matthew Jones, in a black suit and tie, a white shirt visible underneath. They looked just as if they had fallen out of an old fashioned film.

They sat down at a table that was reserved just for them, the best table by the window, and lost themselves in conversation as they waited for the waitress to come and serve them soon. No hurry, they both thought. This was a night to enjoy... And for Matthew to pretend he wasn't having a panic attack. No, he was fine. Totally not hyperventilating on the inside at the mere thought of getting his proposal rejected.

Even if Adrienne's parents kept convincing him this was exactly what she wanted to happen since the first day, he was still completely insecure about it.

"So, what did you have in mind for tonight?" She asked casually, flipping the pages of the menu to see what she would order.

"Uh, you know, the usual... Get some brandy, seduce some ladies, order a salad..." Matthew jokingly replied, and she immediately caught it, since he absolutely despised brandy, already had a date for tonight and hated salads with all his being.

"Right, totally. I'm serious over here!" She gave a light chuckle. "Also, I was thinking of red wine."

"I'm gonna need a lot of alcohol this time", he whispered underneath his breath, but she heard it anyway. It wasn't difficult to notice how he fidgeted with the pages of the menu, and then the sleeves of his suit, constantly fixed his hair and searched through his pockets for a mystery thing again and again.

"You alright?" Adrienne raised an eyebrow in concern, taking his left hand into her right and intertwining their fingers together. "You look like something's really bothering you."

And as soon as he was going to answer, the waitress approached their table and asked for their order.

Matthew asked for two glasses of wine and les pâtes, which was just a fancy way to order pasta in a French restaurant, and Adrienne took the same things since she was indecisive all throughout reading the menu.

Yes, four glasses of something that might potentially get them either drunk or tipsy sounded amazing.

But the American could not wait any longer. He had to ask her now or never, since the anxiety settling upon him became almost too much to bear.  
After all, what was the worst thing that could happen? Getting rejected by the love of his life, embarrassed in front of the entire restaurant and left behind in the dust?

Not bad... Not at all.

"Uh, Adri, I've gotta ask you something really important." He finally started the topic after the waitress headed towards another table, and the girl instantly got a glint of worry in her sparkly eyes.

"Oh, are you breaking up with me? I-I mean, I can fix if I've done anything wrong! Or is it about Alfred? 'Cause I'm sure he's fine... And Elizabeta and Gilbert? I've heard from them this afternoon and they are having a great time--"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." He laughed breathily. "It's actually the exact opposite."

"Oh...?" She felt her cheeks heat up, turning a dusty shade of pink at the embarrassment of jumping to conclusions. "Sorry."

Matthew took a deep breath, getting up from his chair just to get down on one knee, taking out a small, black box from his right pocket and opening it just to make Adrienne's face turn the brightest shade of red, blushing like she'd never blushed in her life. Breathing in a few more times, this time quickly, he looked up to meet her loving gaze and gave her a soft smile before speaking, faking confidence in his voice since fear wouldn't lead him anywhere.

"Adrienne Marguerite Bonnefoy... Will you marry me?"


	8. Chapter Eight

"Will you marry me?"

After the words were finally uttered, Adrienne felt time stop entirely. The people in the restaurant all had their eyes on the two of them, waiting for her to answer, of course, positively. She had been waiting for this moment to happen since she had first fallen for Matthew, and now when it was really happening, she did not know how to give a proper reply.

It was too real, too good to be true. Placing a hand on her chest, she felt her heartbeat quicken, and a wholehearted smile involuntarily spread over her face. The excitement was just like all of those movies showed.

"Yes! Of course I'll marry you!" She said through a string of delighted laughter, and jumped out of her chair as Matthew slid a beautiful, shining silver ring onto her finger and embraced her tightly, feeling as if a weight had fallen off his chest at her words. For him, it was tense up until now, when he could only feel Adrienne, take in her scent, her love... 

Her words were accompanied by a loud applause from the people watching and sitting at their tables. Everybody was happy for them, and they showed it clearly.

"I love you so much", Matthew whispered, lightly kissing her on the lips and sharing a loving gaze, keeping eye contact the entire time.

This was definitely the best evening of his life, and it would only get better from now on. The night was still young, and they needed to celebrate it well.

As they sat back down onto their chairs, both still shaking out of shock, they laughed happily to each other and weren't able to fully comprehend what was going on. 

"I wasn't expecting this at all." Adrienne softly said, holding her lover's hand in the most tender manner. "I can't stop shaking." 

"Well, I wanted to show how much I appreciate you for being in my life. I-I really believe you're the one for me, no matter how weird that might sound." He responded shyly, averting his gaze to the window next to their seating. He closed his eyes on a second, just taking in the magic of the moment that he wanted to never end.

"I think the same thing, all the time... I'm so happy to have you with me. God, we can be such hopeless romantics sometimes..." 

Reaching for her black designer purse, she took her phone out of the small side pocket and simply had to call Elizabeta, her best friend, to make the announcement immediately. After all, they had a deal to tell each other first when they got engaged, or did anything related to romance. That's just what best friends do.

"Who are 'ya calling?" He asked curiously, chuckling at her still excited face.

"Liz. I gotta tell her everything!"

Matthew nodded with a smile, but a memory flashed in his mind that would have usually made him happy, yet now it was just uncomfortable to think about.  
He remembered a conversation he had with Alfred a few years back about how he would be the first person to ever know if Matthew got engaged, but now he didn't even consider calling him to announce the big news as Adrienne cheerfully shouted the words into her phone to Elizabeta on the other side of the line, even if it was the middle of the night in Hungary according to the time zones. The girl still answered the call, thinking how it was definitely more important than sleeping.

Perhaps I should call him... If he would even care. He doesn't need me, does he?

Or maybe I'm just overreacting?

Wait, what if my brother isn't okay? God knows what might have happened to him because of me going away and leaving him with silence for the first time.  
I know how much he hates silence. And Arthur can't be with him every second of the day.

But wouldn't Arthur call if something was wrong?

Yeah. I don't care, I'm not panicking.

I don't give a shit.

But dammit, I do give a shit! He's my brother! I can't go two days being mad at him...

Yet again, all those things that he told me before I left could be completely true. He never lashed out on me before, it must have been the bottled up fear and hatred he holds towards me on the inside.

Oh, what am I doing to myself?! I'm supposed to be having the time of my life, and I'm thinking about unimportant things that just burden me.

"Matthew, are you okay? You've been zoned out for, like, ten minutes now!" Adrienne chuckled, waving her hand in front of the lost expression on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, just got carried away."

"I know something that might help..." She leaned in as close she could, seductively smiling at him. "How about we eat... But don't pay for the food? I mean, if that isn't hot, I don't know what is."

"I fucking knew you'd say that." He burst into laughter for a couple of seconds, but kissed her nonetheless, feeling her hands gently play with the blonde locks of his hair that was near reaching his shoulders. "I'm in."

"First time doing it while being engaged." Adrienne added on as they pulled away from the kiss for air, and then pressed their lips together once again, enjoying the heat of the moment.

She always made him feel better, and in her company, surrounded by her warmth, pleasant scent and loving glances, he just couldn't feel bad.

It was true love.

\- - -

"So, do you finally take back what you said earlier?"

Alfred and Arthur lay down together under the blankets on the Englishman's bed, thinking how it would be a great idea to distract their minds with a little bit of intimacy, followed by binge-watching the entirety of the 7th season of Doctor Who. They cried at every appearance of Clara Oswald, and hid behind pillows at scary scenes which Alfred despised more than anything since they had become a reality of his own created by his mind. In all honesty, he didn't even hear half of the show because the constant whispers in his head, but he tried to ignore them so he wouldn't disturb Arthur. He didn't want a reprise of their fight just because he had an issue that to his faulty, subconscious self, wasn't really major either.

"What exactly?" Arthur threw a sideways glance to his boyfriend.

"How I'm faking everything, and that I'm an attention seeker."

"Oh, yeah, well... I still want us to check you in at a psychiatrist. Just saying. It'd be the best."

The American groaned in annoyance, but knew he wouldn't be able to fight it back for too long. And perhaps getting a diagnosis wasn't all that bad. Medication could help, too. Yet his paranoid side kept telling him to bail out of it just because of the possible danger that it could bring. "Ugh, fine... But when?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment, putting their show on pause. "What about tomorrow morning? The school counselor is the closest thing we have, and she isn't on spring break since there are always those needing help." He said with a careless shrug.

"Dammit..." The other sighed, followed by taking a deep breath and exhaling once again. "I'm scared as fuck."

"Of what?"

"Being asked personal questions! I-I mean, what if the person just wants some vital information from me? What if she's actually a secret agent waiting to kidnap a so-called patient? We can never know, that's the point. And I'm not too fond of getting kidnapped by nice looking ladies." Alfred sat up straight on the bed, crossing his arms in defense.

"Alfred, do you even hear yourself? Do you really believe that an innocent counselor is a spy?" Arthur rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Well, pretty much yes!"

"Why?"

Alfred didn't know how to reply to that one. For a longer moment, he stared at Arthur dumbfounded and perplexed, blinking a few times as confusion took over. "B-because... Because they are telling me that." He whispered in shock towards his own words.

Even to himself, he seemed insane. No wonder Arthur wanted to end everything between them earlier in the day.

"And who are they, exactly...? The voices?" The Brit asked with carefulness in his tone. He had done enough harm to the other in one day. It would only be fair for him to try and be gentle for once, even if he was extremely bad at it and his act would probably fall apart very soon.

"Yes... They tell me those things. At least I think so. There's a lot of them, and sometimes they all speak at the same time so I can't really understand them. Like, right now, they're a jumbled mess of anything and I don't know what they're saying. It's just really annoying and making it super difficult for me to concentrate on talking."

Arthur couldn't understand that, and as much as he tried, he wasn't able to empathize with Alfred and feel like he felt, because it just felt... Illogical. Irrationality at its finest, yet he knew what it could have been. "Do they tell you bad things about yourself?"

"...All the time." Alfred admitted, looking down in embarrassment. "It's usually things like... I'm worthless, useless, a nuisance. And every insult you could think of. Sometimes they make your speech distorted as well."

For the first time, they were able to have a calm conversation about it without any of them freaking out and falling into another fiery fight. And Alfred needed that kind of comfort, a lot. He missed the times he didn't have to deal with something that wasn't real. He missed the feeling of safety, warmth and happiness. In months, he heard whispers, and hoped that they would stay whispers and nothing more. Now that they developed into full-on creatures who deformed his perception of reality, he missed the good old days. Socializing, public speaking, parties, music, friends... The fun they promised him before the first year of college started.

But he had always known he was nothing but a fuck-up after all. His life wasn't the best since the earliest memories of his.

"So you're saying, sometimes you hear something I don't actually say?" Arthur asked with the same amount of confusion as the other boy carried.

"It worsens fights, because it puts everything you say into a hyperbole. You say I'm attention seeking? Sure, but what about fucked up, attention seeking whore who doesn't deserve to live? My mind has a backup word store for when insults seem too plain to comprehend. Boom, let's add on more offensive words to pull Alfred Jones into an even deeper darkness than he is already in!"

"Jesus fucking Christ. I'd never say such a thing."

"You did call me an overdramatic teenager, though."

"Alright, alright! I take it back. You win."

"Trust me, I never win." Alfred scoffed, falling back down onto the softness of the pillow and pressing the space button on his laptop. "Now let's get back to this, I wanna see Clara jump into that time vortex thingy. I bet she won't die this time either."

"Right, good point." Arthur chuckled, but he couldn't just take Alfred's painful stories of his mind.

Did he really feel like that majority of the time?

It sounded like a real life horror movie he wasn't able to escape.

And that's exactly what it was.

Suddenly, the Doctor Who episode was interrupted by a pop-up in the bottom right corner of the screen, making both of them a bit annoyed since this must had been the fifteenth time tonight that the video got paused because of some kind of notification.

It was a message from Elizabeta.

"What? Isn't it night in Hungary? I thought she would sleep. Especially considering the jet lag from the travel." Arthur commented as Alfred clicked on the text.

'I feel so happy for Matthew and Adrienne! This is so exciting, I can't go back to sleep after hearing those news! I suppose you've heard already, right?'

"What... The actual fuck is she talking about?" The younger American furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what exactly happened that Matthew didn't even hint him on.

'What? I didn't hear anything. Are they okay?' The Brit quickly typed out once he noticed that Alfred had absolutely no clue how to type. His original text seemed as if he had smashed the keyboard with his head, but that was no surprise to any of them considering the distorted vision he kept mentioning again and again.

How was he going to do college assignments and take notes, that was his biggest issue besides Matthew.

As they waited for her to type out the response from the other side of the globe, they tried to come up with a logical solution to whatever this might have been. Yet nothing came to their minds.

'Umm, they got engaged... Thought you'd know, you're his brother after all!'

"Excuse me?!" Alfred jolted upwards where he was previously lying down, shooting Arthur a glare that could kill. "Why the fuck have I not heard of this earlier?"

"Calm down, love, please... You must be awfully tired from everything. Don't worry about it."

"To calm down? My brother is hiding his engagement from me, and it's all because I blurted out a couple of words at the height of my fucking panic breakdown! Fine. Alright then, if he wants to play rough, he'll get rough. I don't want to hear or see him ever again. He broke the promise, gave me more proof that he hates me, and this time I'm fucking done. God fuck it, I'm so done."

Well, that was just how those words sounded in Alfred's head, what he thought he said. In reality, it was a pile of everything - incoherent, senseless and badly worded sentences interlocking with each other that Arthur didn't fully understand, but he could sense the anger and disappointment, the feeling of betrayal in them.

"You're not talking properly, Alfred." He whispered fearfully, taking his lover's hand in a gentle manner and intertwining their fingers together. "Talk slowly and don't shout. It'll help us both."

The mood swings were unreal. Alfred could go from the most relaxed person in the world, the happiest boy to a psychotic mess in less than five minutes, and it scared Arthur to a certain degree because of the fury that he showed. The flame in his darkened blue eyes was almost threatening, as if he was about to lash out physically at any given moment. And he was pretty strong, which was just another one on the list of reasons to be afraid.

"He didn't tell me, that fucking bastard, he didn't tell me!"

"Alfred! You're shouting again." He took the younger boy by the hands and brought them down to his lap so he wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else, and moved the computer to the side in case he threw it on the floor out of rage. "Don't do this anymore, please. Just last a bit longer in peace, then we'll sleep and morning will come quicker than you can imagine--"

Alfred tried his best to stop. He took deep breaths, closed his eyes, leaned his head onto Arthur's shoulder for extra comfort, but it was just worsened. It seemed as if being betrayed, left behind in the dust was a major trigger for the darkness that attempted to surround him more and more with each passing moment. And Matthew had managed to make him feel like an even bigger fuck-up, fed the voices in his brother's head so they could produce more hateful speech to disturb his life with.

He was close to giving up. Dropping his head into his hands and covering his face, he cried, weak sobs escaping his throat as Arthur embraced him, hoping it would soon stop. The Brit was tired, too, exhausted from trying to help someone who obviously could not be helped so easily.

"It's not that bad. He'll tell you tomorrow, I bet he will."

And Alfred didn't trust his words, rather had a firm belief that Matthew Jones, his brother, wanted him dead and despised him with all his being.

A time would come when they would have to see each other face to face again.

And it was not going to be pleasant.


	9. Chapter Nine

Sleepless and exhausted, Alfred spent the night in Arthur's embrace just like the day before, thinking about everything and anything, especially his brother who he couldn't simply get out of his mind. He didn't even close his eyes on a second, but didn't make much movement either which was unlike his usual self who shifted around on the bed all the time, unable to find a proper position to rest in. Instead, he tried to focus on one thing so the images surrounding him wouldn't affect him as strongly. Even the smallest sounds scared him, and he wasn't able to recognize whether it was real or all in his head. He stayed alert the entire time, glancing to the window here and there for no particular reason except his delusional thinking. A firm belief formed in his mind - he was being followed by shadows, everybody was against him, and even Arthur could have ended up on his list of potential dangers if it wasn't for the fact he tried to calm him down during panic attacks.

Morning was arriving at a slower pace than ever before. It felt like the longest night of his life, counting each second in his head and hoping he was close to dawn just to find out he didn't leave half the night behind him yet.

He felt as if he was trapped in a cold, darkened prison cell, full of blood which seemed like his own, and at some point during the night, he could swear that he was actually pulled down into a black hole created underneath him, and the intensity of the feeling made him almost cry out in pain, though he bit his lip roughly to stop any sounds from escaping him. He was absolutely freezing, despite it being a warm spring night. Shivering, constantly trembling, yet he couldn't simply throw on a blanket to make it stop. It was all over his body, the unstoppable tingling sensation he despised so much. The air wasn't clear either, and his senses of smell were filled with a terrible scent that almost choked him with its ferociousness.

Arthur soundly slept next to him, never bothered, and Alfred wished he could be like that again. Peaceful. He wished he could turn back time to the day he fought with Matthew and not say those words, instead tell him how he really felt. He didn't only need Matthew, he couldn't live without him. And perhaps the whispers would have never turned to screams if he acted differently.

Well, it was done now, wasn't it? Time travel still wasn't possible, he didn't have the power to alter the past, present and future the way he wanted it to be.

He was oh, so stuck, once again, pulled back and forth between darkness and light, just like he used to be as a child. The only difference was that now, the darkness grew stronger and overpowered the person he truly was inside. When he was younger, he would fight it the best he knew, never showed it to other people, and no one knew what really went on behind his face and above his throat, all the pain and misery of losing his parents and ending up alone, hurt emotionally and physically and every other possible way. Matthew had never felt that bad, since he set a goal in life to help his younger brother through everything and not get carried away by the hurtful negativity that life had forced them to carry.

But how could Alfred fight something in his mind if, to him, it merged with reality and surrounded him entirely? How was he going to push away a thought that wasn't merely a thought anymore? He didn't own that kind of strength. He couldn't change his perception of the world.

He was scared that he'd soon have to drop out of college because studying and doing project would become an impossible task with all the distractions, which would mean he'd be stripped away his dreams and a future as a professional artist. And he'd be taken away from Arthur.

Finally, Arthur woke up from the peaceful sleep, tossing and turning around until he, at last, slowly sat up and whispered a good morning to the disturbed boy next to him, which snapped Alfred out of his thoughts.

That was all he needed. A distraction from his own distractions. Something he never in his life thought he'd need so badly.

"Have you slept at all?" The Brit asked in a soft tone, stretching and yawning before getting out of bed.

Alfred shook his head in a negative response and followed the other. He couldn't stand being alone.

"Alright, then. Let's get dressed and take you to the counselor. We had a deal to do it this morning, remember?" Arthur stated, opening their shared closet and throwing a couple of Alfred's things along with his onto the bed. When he found the American wordlessly staring at him in confusion and a great amount of fear, he sighed and approached him in a cautious manner, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid. It's going to help, wouldn't you like to feel better?"

"I-I would."

"Then do as I say and get dressed."

Are you just going to let him boss you around like that?  
Of course, you're far too weak to oppose him.  
So, so weak.  
Useless.

He blinked a few times to snap out of the trance set by the voices and nodded to Arthur's words. "Okay." A faint whisper barely escaped his throat, and he turned around to do as he was ordered. As much as he hated commands, he was probably far too lost to do ordinary, everyday actions by himself.

As they both got dressed and ready for the day, which took longer than usual, they headed out of the room, all with great carefulness.

Alfred was still petrified of going to the counselor, and he hated the thought of being put in a place of danger from which he couldn't escape. Arthur constantly tried to calm him down and repeatedly told him that things would be okay, and that the person really isn't a Russian spy or anything Alfred believed. At this point, even the Brit who was terrible at psychology, could easily form a diagnosis of his own, a theory, completely eliminating the possibility of Alfred faking it since last night. He couldn't just be an attention seeker, that wasn't possible. This was much more than asking for attention.

Luckily for some, the counselor's room was only three floors down, on their part of the university, so they were quick to arrive, Arthur knocking softly on the door and deeply hoping that somebody was currently there and free to have a nice conversation with Alfred.

"Come in", they could hear from the other side, and the younger American felt his heart clench in his chest. He instinctively gripped Arthur's hand tighter as they walked in through the white door with a silver nameplate he couldn't even properly read since it was in some kind of foreign language, his first guess was Finnish. Great, now he trusted the person even less.

"I hope we haven't hit a bad time to visit." The Englishman chuckled lightly, and the counselor - an extremely pale, blonde hair girl in a light blue work uniform - gave them both a soft smile, waving her hand in dismiss before pointing at the couch across her desk.

"Of course you haven't. Take a seat, we'll discuss anything you want. Just tell me both your names." She said in a not so thick accent, but it was visible that she wasn't from any English speaking country.

"Oh, I'm not here for discussion, but he is. Alfred Jones. But if you'd like to know, my name's Arthur." He replied with a shrug of his shoulders and nudged Alfred to sit down. The boy seemed more lost than he did yesterday, which concerned him greatly. Who knew what he experienced during the night that made him so blunt and inexpressive today.

The counselor nodded, writing it down in a notebook she kept in front of her and turned around towards them. "So, Alfred, let me ask you the basics, then you can tell me the rest. How are you currently feeling?" She had a soft approach towards the boy, every word carefully chosen as if she knew where the conversation would lead.

Alfred didn't know how to immediately respond. He fidgeted with the sleeves of the grey sweatshirt he had on, looking almost absentminded as he thought of an answer. "Uh... I feel tired." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the girl who asked him the question.

"And why is that? I suppose you haven't slept well, can you tell me the reason?"

"Because I'm trapped."

She knew this boy, remembered his speech a few months ago when the university participated in a protest and needed somebody who would do the public speaking. He instantly applied to do it first, and made one of the best speeches she had ever heard, and he was only the first year of college. It was strange, seeing the usually open, fairly social student in this state. Though, she was willing to listen to whatever he had to say. "Who trapped you? How did it feel?" She asked worriedly.

Shrugging his shoulders, he let out a long exhale and leaned back onto the couch. "I-I don't know... They did. And they kept telling me I'm better off dead."

"Well, whoever they are, they're wrong. You're certainly better off alive, here with us." She convincingly said.

"And everything hurts me." He continued, despite the fears, he needed to get it out. "I wish I didn't see these things around me. It's scary."

"Can you describe to me what is it that you see?"

So he told her everything, even the details she asked - the powerful visions, images that he couldn't separate from reality, the painful sensations accompanied by each word from the negative voices in his mind. Absolutely everything. Arthur and the counselor listened with great care as the boy spilled all his thoughts, worries, fears of being followed, hated, ignored... He confessed what happened between him and Matthew, and how it triggered old memories of being lonely and left behind. He told her how much he despised silence, how the screams would get louder once it's quiet all around, making a paradox - silence was the loudest thing he knew.

After a little bit of thinking and a few more questions asked, she made a conclusion of her own, petrified of even listening to such a frightening story coming from somebody who seemed so careless and happy all throughout the months he was here and she had him in her sight.

"Well, Alfred, I think you might be going through a psychotic episode."

"Uh, what?" The American blinked a couple of times, staring at the girl with a perplexed expression on his face. "I think you're getting this all wrong, I'm not psychotic, it's not like that--"

"It's not something to be ashamed of. It's not positive, but it's not negative either. You'll get through it. I cannot really give you a clear diagnosis or prescribe any medication, but I am always here to talk, to calm you if you're struggling with a panic attack or anything of that sort."

"But I'm not crazy!" Alfred almost jumped out of his seat, but he was held down by Arthur who knew that the other might have an anger breakdown at anytime. "It's not like that!"

"I'm sorry, I wish I could say something else. And you're definitely not crazy, that's where you're correct. Going through such a thing has never meant craziness or insanity, even though people use those words without getting any proper education about the problem." She remained calm, but a bit confused since she had never had to deal with a person who experienced psychosis or anything similar. "Certainly go to a psychiatrist to get a proper diagnosis and meds. Things will change for the better, believe me."

"I---" Alfred wanted to say something, wished he could fight back and prove she was wrong, but he couldn't. It made quite a lot of sense. And he knew his mental stability wasn't the best. "I can't believe this..."

Arthur suspected that it could have been that, yet he still let the professionals do their job before bringing any conclusions of his own. Now he felt extremely guilty for calling Alfred overdramatic, attention seeking and all those phrases the day before, because he made the boy feel a thousand times worse alongside the things he had to go through.

It was strange to even imagine. If he was to hear a sound he disliked, a voice that told him everything bad about himself, he could easily shut it off, leave the room, tell it to shut up and he would never have to hear it again. But Alfred had to bear with it night and day, no way to stop. If he saw a scary movie he disliked, he could just turn off the screen, watch something else, forget about it and continue with his life. Alfred was forced to watch it and feel it on his own body as a first hand experience. Arthur knew the difference between reality and fiction. Fictional worlds were only stories. Alfred lived in a terrifying fictional world without a way of leaving it at will.

No, it wasn't strange, he changed his mind.

It was horrible.

And from now on, he'd make sure that Alfred feels as safe as that was possible.

He was there to help.


	10. Chapter Ten

"So, what do we do now? I cannot leave him alone like this."

Arthur asked the question with a whole lot of obvious worry in his voice, still sitting in the counselor's office and tightly holding Alfred's hand all throughout the session.

The lady, whose name was Tina, as the two found out, took her time to think for a moment or two, lost in this kind of situation. She had never talked to a student who experienced the things Alfred did on a daily basis, so it was new and kind of confusing for her as well. "If things worsen, we'll see. Hopefully they don't." She had no better advice to offer, but still gave all emotional support that Alfred needed while he had to deal with this horrifying mental state he was in.

"I don't know for how much longer I'll be able to handle all of this." Alfred muttered insecurely, looking down at the floor instead of making eye contact. It was so overwhelming and scary, and even now, when he was allowed to speak loudly about everything he felt, it didn't help much. Only momentarily. He knew that as soon as he got back into the room, the hallucinations would worsen and he'd panic... Again. But he also had in mind that ending up in a mental hospital wasn't so far away if he kept showing how he felt to other people.

"Remember, you can always come here and talk if you feel the need to. You don't have to go through this alone." Tina softly smiled as a way of comforting the young boy. She felt sorry for him, and didn't want him to suffer - she hated seeing anyone in pain, that was why her job was to help people who struggled with anything that made it impossible for them to live a healthy, normal, everyday life.

Alfred nodded as a sign of gratitude, letting out a long exhale and getting up from the couch once he noticed he had nothing else to talk about. "Well, I appreciate it." He said and pulled Arthur by the sleeve of his shirt to silently tell him it was time to go because he couldn't stand being here anymore. The Englishman quickly followed, waving to the counselor before finally exiting the room and closing the door behind the two of them.

He sensed the tension radiating off the American and immediately took them to a safe space so they could relax a little bit, but apparently that's not what Alfred wanted. "I want to go somewhere really, really loud. If I sit in silence for one more minute, I might as well go fully insane." He shakily spoke, holding onto Arthur as if it was the end of the world.

"The loudest thing we have is that pizza place across the building."

"Then take me there, I don't care! And getting something to eat doesn't sound half bad either. I'm tired, hungry, stressed out, have a migraine and want to die a slow and painful death. Let's go, I don't have much more time." The other snapped in frustration, and Arthur didn't feel like arguing. They were already on the ground floor of the building, so all they needed to do was find the entrance. The university was massive, great enough even to get lost.

It took them a few minutes to find the exit, and at last, they were exposed to daylight. Arthur missed fresh air, they hadn't been out in a couple of days, ever since spring break started and Alfred freaked out because of Matthew for the first time. "Are you sure you're ready to be around people?"

"Only one of us hates socializing, and that's you." Alfred shot back in an angry tone of voice. The Brit couldn't counter argument that one.

As they waited for the traffic to calm down, they crossed the road on a green light and found themselves in front of the place. It wasn't quite a restaurant, but wasn't small either. Something like an unknown brand of a smaller version of McDonald's that sold pizza instead of burgers and fries. They entered through an automatic door that opened by a movement sensor, and found themselves surrounded by people, music, conversations, laughter, everything that Alfred liked.

"Is this comfortable?"

"Yeah, it is." The younger smiled just slightly as they took their seat near the entrance. The place was almost full, only two tables weren't already taken.

He enjoyed the sounds that he knew were actually real, and not all in his head, and loved the relaxing music playing in the background - it wasn't awfully loud or distracting, just some lo-fi beats to fill the quiet. Exactly what he needed. The best thing about it was having some kind of power over the voices in his mind, since now they weren't able to be the ones overpowering him. He hoped it would stay like that for some time, at least hours.

Soon enough, they got themselves something to eat and got lost in small talk, chatting about superficial things just to get both of their minds off stress and worry.

"Did you know that Jupiter is the fastest spinning planet in the Solar system?" Alfred brought up the topic all of the sudden, quickly devouring the entire piece of pizza remaining on the plastic plate it was served in. "I think that's pretty impressive."

"No, but thanks for enlightening me. I've got to congratulate Jupiter the next time I see him." Arthur lightly laughed, feeling calmer as long as Alfred wasn't in another panic attack. Yes, this was nice. Just like when they first met not a while ago. Simple, random conversations, curiosity... He wished that the American didn't change in such a short period of time. He wanted this to be everyday life, as much as he promised the other to take care of him all throughout his psychotic break, which could last up to six months or so, some less and some more.

"Oh, and did you know Jodie Whittaker will play the Thirteenth Doctor? I'm excited to see that. Y'know, the Doctors were always guys, this is a real step forward."

How was Alfred able to jump from topic to topic so easily, Arthur didn't understand. But he wasn't bothered by it, rather the opposite.

"I saw the trailer a few days ago. She's pretty cool, I don't know why people are freaking out over it."

"Because they're, uh, conservative and closed-minded? I even saw comments saying how they want to bomb the BBC studio or something. I mean, c'mon, not even I want to do that to people and I'm batshit crazy at this point!"

"Well said. But I really think you shouldn't call yourself crazy. That's not what you are." Arthur tried to have a gentler approach to the situation, especially since he wanted to make it up for lashing out on him the day before. He didn't want Alfred to bring himself down like that with those words. Instead, he wanted the other to think of it as more of a passing phase, to give him more hope for the future.

"I'm not normal either." Alfred sighed, leaning his head against the wall that the table stood by. "Normal people don't see things that aren't really there. And right now I'm aware that those things are unreal, but when I intensely feel them on my own goddamn skin and hear them all around me, I'm never sure whether I'm in this dimension anymore. I'm not normal."

"Can you feel them right now, too? You seem calm, so I cannot tell..."

"Less than I did earlier, but that's just because we're in a louder ambient. I don't know how any of this works, honestly. I just hate it from the bottom of my heart, and want it to stop."

"I wish I could somehow help." The Brit frowned in sympathy, taking his lover's hand once again and intertwining their fingers together in the most tender manner. "I don't like seeing you suffer."

"Yeah, well, what can we do? As long as I don't end up at a psych ward or something. I think that would be my total breaking point. I mean, just imagine! Being locked in a tiny room in silence with no way out and no contact with the outside world. Even worse, no internet connection!" Alfred placed a hand over his chest in mock horror, but in reality, he was really scared of ending up in such a position.

Arthur covered his face with the palm of his left hand as he laughed, yet he knew how Alfred felt about this. No one would want that for themselves. "Having no internet is a horror... But think about it this way. If it ever happens, which I doubt it will, they can help you."

"No, no they can't. They can just shove a bunch of meds down my throat and wait for me to slowly rot my life away." Alfred shook his head in extreme disapproval, having a lot of knowledge on how it usually worked. Perhaps not all mental hospitals were like that, but he didn't believe in them so much. In fact, he was petrified of them. Especially because of how Hollywood movies perceive them - a bunch of crazy people in white pyjama pants screaming through dark hallways of a building that looked like a massive prison. "Why are we even talking about this? I thought we came here to relax, not how to talk about how to get rid of me easily."

"I don't know, really... I guess it gets difficult to actually relax when being anxious is all you know."

"Exactly. Just like it's extremely hard for me to focus on reality when I'm always hanging somewhere in between two different worlds, and the line between them is so thin that it's almost nonexistent."

And it hurts to know that one day, I might hurt you without even knowing I hurt you.

I slowly push you away, soon you'll realize how insane I really am...


	11. Chapter Eleven

May

All throughout the spring break, Alfred felt himself fall apart more and more with each day, to a point where he didn't even recognize what was real and what wasn't. He lived his life taken away by a complete haze, everything was in a total blur and he did not have much more hope that it would be fixed, at least not any time soon. Panic attacks got to him every second hour and it got harder to calm down from them each time. Arthur was there to help him, luckily, and even Emma interfered a couple of times when he needed an extra hand to stay in touch with reality. The hallucinations were so intense, they managed to make him cry a couple of times, scream out loud in hope that it would stop. And it never did.

By now, people thought he was insane. He couldn't hide it much from anyone and half of the people in his dorm knew what was going on, seeing him break down in the cafeteria and the dining room as well. They did not care too much about it, yet some of them still accused him of only seeking for attention. And those comments hurt, a lot at that point.

Today was the last day of holidays, which meant he would have to face Matthew after two weeks, and he was utterly scared of what his brother thought of him, what they would say to each other... After all, they were in really bad relations at the moment. Alfred still didn't officially find out about their engagement, not even from Adrienne, but he knew that the girl most probably wanted to say it, yet wasn't allowed to because of her fiancé. The delusional thinking made him drown in the belief that his brother hated him from the bottom of his heart.

Alfred constantly lived in fear that he would hurt people unintentionally, without even knowing he hurt them. He had anger breakdowns often, but they had fortunately never escalated into anything physical. Though, it could happen, and he wouldn't know because he'd still be living in that haze. And if it did happen, he could end up in some place he didn't want to be in.

He told Arthur a couple of thousand times to leave him alone, but not because he wanted to be alone. He simply wanted to protect his significant other once he realized what he could do if he lashed out too much. Still, the Englishman tried his best to stay by the other's side even at the darkest hours, no matter how difficult it was for him personally, too.

Seeing the American so lost and out of touch with the real world made him sad, mad and every other negative emotion one could think of at the spot. A little bit hopeless, perhaps, since he didn't know how to help him properly. He could only be there, hold his hand, guide him through taking deep breaths and whispering words of reassurance, but he felt as if it meant nothing to a mind which wasn't really there.

Oh, he was wrong. To Alfred, it meant everything to have emotional support in a moment when he was surrounded by darkness, chased by his own shadows and insulted by the voices in his own head. It made him feel loved and cared about.

All the way in Montréal, Canada, Adrienne and Matthew were finally packing their things for the way back to New Haven. They had the time of their lives in Quebec, but now it was time to go back to college work and student loans. It was their last year, after all, and they loved doing it so it served no problem. The only small problem was facing Alfred again after an intense fight and two weeks of separation. Matthew was just as scared as his brother, feared being emotionally hurt once again. Underneath that mask of logical acts and bluntness stood repressed feelings, sensitivity, something that the older American was always scared to show, especially since he was the one that needed to take care of Alfred once they lost their parents. Only Adrienne had the opportunity to see him at his most vulnerable state.

"Did we forget anything?" Adrienne asked as she rushed through the house to get every single thing they brought with them or bought while they were here. Her parents helped them pack their suitcases, and Jeanne wanted to throw in two boxes of her homemade cookies to keep them safe on the ride home, but they refused. They had too much stuff to carry already.

"Nope, I think we're all set. We can go." Matthew zipped up the final bag, clapping his hand in a way to signal that he'd done everything he needed to go.

"I'm going to miss you two so much", the mother sighed with melancholy, embracing them both in a tight hug to which Pierre joined soon enough. The goodbyes were going to be excruciatingly long, it seemed to Matthew.

And he was right. It took them twenty minutes to leave the house, because each of them needed to be hugged about sixty thousand times, had to recall every beautiful memory they made in Canada together, witnessed a photo album which they didn't even know was in the making and received a bottle of the finest French wine. Jeanne and Pierre were very generous and kind, that was for sure, but Adrienne and Matthew now really needed to get on the road, and that was a thought difficult to process for the other two.

"Goodbye!" They heard in French ten more times before they were, at last, allowed to leave.

It was a long way back to the United States.

\- - -

Alfred and Arthur were casually sitting in the cafeteria, lost in the crowd of people who were either also waiting for their friends to come back from travels or simply wanted to hang out and get a cup of coffee. For the two, it was both. The were expecting Matthew and Adrienne along with Liz and Gilbert to come back, but it was also major for the younger American not to be left in silence. He sat by the window, enjoying his drink - to other people, he seemed completely at peace, relaxed, though they all by now knew he wasn't his old self anymore. But in reality, his mind was racing, a hundred kilometers per hour, thinking about everything that could go wrong once his brother comes back home.  
He became much more reserved, stopped being loud and obnoxious as he used to be typed, almost if he purposefully tried to isolate himself from communicating with others. All he wanted out of people was the quiet they filled with their conversations, but he had no idea how to personally approach them and talk.

Emma noticed that as well. She confessed to Arthur that it was a huge mistake calling him attention seeking, because it was obvious that something was terribly wrong with his mindset. And once she heard that he was going through a psychotic break, she tried her best to keep him in touch with the real world, as much as it was exhausting for both of them. They got closer, despite his paranoid state which kept telling him to push everyone away, and both forgot how they started off a bit badly. All that mattered was the friendship they had now.

"So, how do you plan spending the last day of spring break? I want to have a party at a disco club, and you guys are definitely invited." She turned to the two of them after chatting with some of her other friends, a genuine smile on her face as she sat down on the empty seat next to Alfred.

"We'd love to come, but some of our friends are coming back and we're probably going to end up helping them unpack and all that crap." Arthur frowned apologetically, making excuses to stay locked in the dorm room by himself because he had two absolutely excruciating weeks - socializing every single days, taking Alfred places filled with people, meeting other students so he would feel less new around here... He needed time for himself to recharge.

"They can come, too! Let's be honest, I invited the whole floor. And the floor above, and the one under. Basically half of the building is coming. So a few more people couldn't hurt, right?"

"I... Really can't go today, but I'm sure Alfred is up for it." The Brit nudged his boyfriend, immediately gaining the other's attention and making him look up rather than having his gaze locked to the floor.

"Who? What? Me?" Alfred almost panicked, but once he saw the other two chuckling at his momentary confusion, the tension immediately died down a little. "Oh, right, something about a party. Sorry, I wasn't really listening."

Emma rolled her eyes in a playful manner at his uncertainty, smiling the entire time. "Yeah, are you coming?"

"Can't. Gotta mentally prepare for either stabbing someone or being stabbed." He humorously commented, but there was some truth hidden behind that metaphor.

"Is it Matthew?"

"Yup, and I'm so scared I think I might have a fever." He nervously shifted in his seat.

She let out a long exhale, sympathetically placing a hand on his shoulder and looking him straight in the eyes. "First off, no one's getting stabbed. And secondly, he's your brother! He loves you and you know it. Whatever happens, you two will find a way to smooth things out. I won't tell you to stop worrying because that's the stupidest thing to tell someone who's literally paranoid. But I will tell you to take deep breaths, it helps with anxiety. Just approach him normally, say hi, don't rush into anything. It will be alright."

"She's right", Arthur added on, leaning forward on his chair. "And maybe it's a good thing to mention, once you two get to that topic, why you said all those things right before he left. Explain that it wasn't really you, what you truly meant. If there's one person in this world who you can tell everything, it's Matthew. Believe me when I say it."

Alfred smiled halfheartedly at their words of comfort, nodding as a sign of understanding. "What would I do without you guys?"

"Well, that's debatable, but I guess you'd be freaking out right now. We did a good job, didn't we?" Emma joked around, glad that they managed to calm and snap him out of the spiraling anxiety, at least a little.

"The day I stop freaking out over the smallest things will be end of the world."

\- - -

"We're finally back."

As they exited Matthew's cramped up, small car, Adrienne announced their return happily, breathing in the fresh air with a smile. Yes, she loved being at home, seeing her parents, walking around Montreal, but nothing felt as good as going back to all their friends.

"Yeah, isn't that great."

Well, perhaps only one of them felt happy. Matthew sarcastically spat out the words, taking out the suitcases form the trunk of the car and dropping them onto the concrete. He was just as worried as his brother, but he wasn't panicking, he was rather easily frustrated and agitated, using sarcasm as a coping mechanism instead of facing his emotions in a healthy way.

"Oh, cheer up already. You've been whining about talking to Alfred ever since we got on the road." Adrienne sighed in irritation, helping him carry out a few lighter bags. "It's not like you're going to die or anything."

"The problem is, we both fucked up, but we're too stubborn to confess. So we're just going to make a wildfire out of this."

"Then be the one to confess first! You're acting like it's theoretical science to get to these conclusions." She rolled her eyes, and would have slapped him on the head if it wasn't for the bags she held in both her hands and over her shoulder.

"Theoretical science is easier. At least I used to take classes of it. I never took a how to make peace with your brother class, though."

"What's the word that you Americans use for these things? Oh yeah, bullshit. Now get moving because my back is going to snap in two if I carry these bags for more than ten minutes."

They weren't really fighting, it was simply the tension between the two brothers that made everything more difficult for everybody in their lives.

Walking towards the entrance of their dormitory, they spotted some other students coming back from trips as well, and it somehow felt good that they weren't the only ones that lazy to travel on the last day. They got themselves quickly checked in at the reception, and made their way over to their dorm room. By elevator, of course. Thank goodness that thing existed. Sometimes they were too thankful for not needing to walk up flights of stairs.

Once they arrived at their floor, at last, the two were already too exhausted from carrying all those bags and suitcases by themselves. They dropped them onto the ground in front of the door to their room and unlocked it, finally entering and trying their best to overpower the desire to just flop down onto the beds and sleep for a century.

"Let's get something at the cafeteria and then sleep." Adrienne said, holding back a yawn.

"Sure thing." Matthew shrugged carelessly.

Placing the suitcases next to the desk and leaving the unpacking for later, they left the room unlocked - no one really cared about locking anyway - and went to get something to drink.

There was almost no one in the cafeteria, just a few people silently drinking and reading, enjoying their alone time in the best way possible.

"Hey, where is everyone else?" Adrienne asked in confusion, and the students looked up from what they were doing to politely greet the two of them.

"Uh, at a party. Emma organized it at a nearby club that her dad owned or something, not sure. Literally the entire floor was invited, but we didn't feel like coming." Lisa, a redheaded Irish girl that Adrienne knew from French literature classes, replied in a casual tone. "By the way, congrats on the engagement!"

The entire university knew about their engagement since the day it took place, and it was all because of Elizabeta who just needed to spread it all over Facebook without even asking the couple for consent. She knew they were public people and wouldn't care much, and luckily, she was right. If it was Arthur, he'd freak out just like he did when she told everyone about Alfred's and his relationship as soon as they got together.

"Oh, thank you!" They both responded with a smile, before going over to the coffee machine and preparing their drinks which they gulped down in about two minutes, kind of in a hurry. "Well, we'll leave you alone to read. We need to unpack and all that stuff, anyway."

In translation - Matthew needed to mentally prepare to say hello to his brother, and Adrienne had to hug her best friend out after not seeing him for two weeks.

They walked to the room that Alfred and Arthur shared, Matthew silently hoping that the two were also at the party, and knocked softly three times before trying to open the door, knowing for sure that they were the last people to care whether it was locked or not. Just like them.

But it wasn't the case this time. It was firmly locked, it seemed.

Alfred was resting on the top bed, carelessly doodling figures of different people in a sketchbook of his, and Arthur did his last minute project work on the bed below when they heard the knocking coming from the entrance.

"Who is it?" The Brit asked, already adapted to Alfred who was by now far too scared of letting anyone in without knowing who it was.

"Matt and Adrienne", the voices said from the other side, and Arthur got up to open the door.

The younger American instantly dropped everything he was doing, flashing a worried look to his lover as panic caught him in a matter of milliseconds. Shit, he mouthed to the other in concern. Not knowing how to react, he covered himself with a blanket and instinctively pretended he was asleep, pushing his notebook down from the bed so it fell to the floor.

Arthur caught on as he gave the boy a single sideways glance, and decided to play along, since he didn't want to force him into any unwanted interaction.

"Welcome back, you two!" He happily said, but in a half-whisper so he wouldn't wake Alfred up, feeling himself get embraced into a big hug from both of them. Even though they didn't know him for a long time, and he sometimes felt like he didn't fit into their group, they treated him like an old best friend.

"We missed you so much", Adrienne said in the same tone of voice. "Where's Alfred? I bet he's at the party."

"Nope, he's asleep." The Brit chuckled and knew that statement was going to make them both surprised.

"Huh, he's the last person to sleep over a party." Matthew commented, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he looked towards the bunk beds to spot his younger brother asleep. "That doesn't sound like him. Is he alright?"

His brotherly, overprotective senses kicked in as soon as his gut instinct told him something could have been wrong, and in that second he almost forgot about the worry that held him down the entire day. Almost.

"Of course he is, don't fret. Just spent after the holidays", Arthur effectively lied his way through, though there was still some truth behind the words. These seemed like the longest holidays of Alfred's life, like they lasted three months and not two weeks. Perhaps it was because he lost a sense of time and reality, but it was still torturous to wait it out that long.

But Alfred hated lying. Especially to those he loved the most. And he instantly regretted pretending he was asleep just to avoid a tough conversation.

After all, sometimes it needed to be done.

He couldn't properly gather his disorganized thoughts, but he tried the best he could, taking a deep breath before shifting on the bed and sitting up, still panicking yet not showing it.  
"Alright, fine, I'm not sleeping! I was just..." He closed his eyes on a moment, almost forgetting how he was going to finish that sentence. "I was just scared to face you again."

"Scared? Of me?" Matthew was startled, yet in a way glad that he could see his brother. But when he did see him, he got even more worried. Alfred didn't just look tired, he looked completely spent and exhausted, and it was obvious he was lightly shaking. Nothing like his usual self who would come jumping at the door no matter the small fight they had that time. "Alfred, are you okay?"

Adrienne and Arthur shared a sorrowful glance, thinking how it would be the best to leave the two alone for a while. They silently made their way towards the exit, and neither Matthew or Alfred noticed they were about to be absent for some time. They were too lost.

"I'm nowhere near okay, Matt. But it's alright, you don't have to worry. I just don't want you to hate me for it." He rambled through the panic, completely forgetting how to stay calm and rational in the situation.

"I do not hate you, what are you talking about?"

"You... You don't?"

The way Alfred seemed genuinely perplexed about the answer made Matthew uncomfortable. Did he really go out of the way to make the other think he was hated?

"Of course not. You're my brother. Yeah, you hurt me, but I couldn't hate you even if I wanted to." He said in a soft tone of voice as Alfred climbed down from the bed in a shaky manner, thinking he was going to fall with every step he made.

"I'm not sure if I can trust you anymore."


	12. Chapter Twelve

"I'm not sure if I can trust you anymore."

The words left Matthew in awe, he didn't really know what he did to make the other feel that way anymore. It was just confusing. He caught notice of Alfred's cloudy eyes and the way he seemed like he either looked at everything at once or did not look at everything at all, and that made him worried. Something else stood in between them, not just the fight, definitely, he just didn't know what.

"What are you talking about?" He mustered out, furrowing his eyebrows as he kept his gaze firmly on the younger boy. They were alone in the room, but neither of them noticed the fact that Arthur and Adrienne snuck out of the room, as they were now face to face, almost in a different dimension with only two of them and the words that needed to yet be said.

Alfred didn't look threatening, at least not at first. He was just sad, a wave of sorrow washing over him along with panic, as if all previous joy he still held inside was sucked out of him, leaving ash and dust behind. "You didn't tell me about your engagement. You didn't even want to look at me before you left. And it was all because of a simple anger breakdown I had? How can I trust you after that?" His voice was shaky, as if he was on the verge of tears - which he probably was.

"Just because of a simple anger breakdown? You hurt me a lot, you know! I think we both overreacted, not only me." Matthew crossed his arms in defense, wondering for how long was he going to keep this tough act going.

"I couldn't hold myself back, but I didn't really mean it!"

"Then why did you say it? Why did you say you didn't need me, and that you wouldn't care if I didn't come back? Do you know how painful that was to me to hear, after taking care of you for about twelve years?! You could have known what you were going to cause by saying it."

Alfred had no mental strength to listen to Matthew's words. Suddenly, the world around him was spinning and he felt lightheaded, unsteady on his feet, and it was all caused by the flash of darkness in front of his eyes that kept leaving and returning, at last staying and making everything around him darker. He felt cold, his shivering increasing and he could barely stand properly because of the overwhelming dizziness it caused. "I-I'm sorry!" Breaking down into tears, he covered his face with his hands and took hysterical breaths, unable to calm down at all. "I'm sorry for existing, I bet it would have been better for everyone if I just died on the spot along with our parents that day, wouldn't it?!"

That's right, light up the fire. Make your brother hate you even more.  
It's what you deserve, don't you?  
If you were of any use, you wouldn't be put in this position now.  
So, so worthless.  
Such an idiot.  
Why are you still here? Is there a point of you being here?

"Don't bring them into this, don't you dare!" Matthew snapped, losing his temper at those words. He would never make a mention of their parents during a fight, that was crossing the line already.

Once the voices started getting louder again, Alfred lost all sense of stability and had no self - control, wasn't able to differentiate what was real and what was not. It all mixed together. The strange flashes of light and the shadows, insults he got from his own mind, and fluctuating temperature, it made him feel as if he was entering a different dimension, but he wasn't in a specific one, rather stuck between the two in a haze. And his chest was tight, his heart was beating far too quickly and he was overly sensitive to pain; even the slightest thing could hurt him a thousand times more than usually. He couldn't properly speak anymore, all the words he tried to muster out were disorganized, as if put in random order. But to him, it didn't sound like that, since he could barely hear himself properly over the screams invading his senses. "I can't say... If I can't say things... Why would you? What did I do?! It's stupid, I'm stupid--"

"You're not making any sense right now", the other spat out angrily, but he was intensely worried about his brother's overreaction - it wasn't Alfred's usual self, that was for sure. Alfred was someone who spoke clearly, gave good arguments, never cried during fights, he was a public speaker and debater, not somebody who would bring in sensitive topics to harm the other person more, not somebody who looked as if he was on the verge of passing out just because he was being shouted at.

"Please", Alfred violently trembled, falling to his knees with his hands still covering his face, his glasses falling to the floor - not that he had any use of them, between all the distorted vision. "Please, help me..." He fearfully whispered, and Matthew could swear he forgot about all the previous anger in a single second, as his younger brother actually asked for help, and seemed like he needed it. There was a flash of worry taking over him before he ran up to the other and knelt down next to him as he sobbed all his misery out loud.

"What's happening?" He asked frantically, afraid to do or say the wrong thing, who knew what was going on, perhaps he could have easily made it worse.

"Stay away!" The younger screamed, unable to decide whether he wanted someone next to him or not. "It's them, don't... Come close... They'll hurt", he breathed out the words through tears and cries, and with each unintelligible sentence, Matthew worried more and more.

"You just asked for help, and now you're pushing me away, what are you saying--"

"Just stop!"

"Alfred, calm down! How am I supposed to understand you like this?!" Matthew shouted as he got up from the floor, leaving the boy to cry - but not for long. He wanted to get someone else to help, since he couldn't do this on his own. "What do you want from me?"

You're hurting everyone around you.  
Why don't you just hurt yourself?  
As if anyone would care.  
You're such an idiot.

"I want you to make them stop!" Alfred's pupils were dilated, his usually soft blue eyes darkened, and he kept looking around in obvious fear. But what was he scared of?  
Matthew didn't see the shadows and dark silhouettes, he didn't feel their breathing on the back of his neck and didn't believe they were there to kill him, to hurt him and everyone else, too... Alfred did. And there were so many of them now, more than ever before, their disturbing, sadistic voices echoing through the narrowing space of the room.

"Something's definitely out of place, I'm not even questioning this anymore. I'll... I'll get Arthur to help you, I have a feeling he knows what's going on." With every step that Matthew took towards the door, Alfred whispered near inaudible things about how he should get back, but also go away at the same time. He opened the door, and spotted Arthur and Adrienne waiting in the hallways, obviously tense and pale in the face. "Do you know what's going on?" He asked them in a frustrated tone mixed with confusion, concern, disappointment, sadness... A whole bunch of emotions he couldn't understand himself.

Arthur had already told Adrienne everything that had been going on in the past weeks in briefly organized sentences while they were waiting outside, and she was horrified, felt incredibly bad that someone she cared about had to go through such devastating things. "Yeah, we do." The Brit said. "There's nothing we can do about it."

"My brother is in there, literally on the fucking floor, crying for help and saying someone's going to hurt him, and I have no idea what he's trying to say, what's going on, and you tell me you know? I demand an explanation, right now!"

Adrienne had never seen him assert himself like that. It was a bit scary, seeing him so furious, but she understood. He always had troubles expressing what he really felt, and his repressed emotions would turn to an anger fit once in a while. But it was never this bad, which just showed how much he truly, deeply cared about Alfred. His only family, his brother... And to see him in that state? it just hurt.

Alfred wanted to escape the room. It was too narrow and too dark by now, he needed to get out of it before he would start running out of air, at least he thought he'd run out of it. He barely got up, shaky on his feet, but he managed to stand and run up to the door, which didn't even seem like a door anymore. More like a distorted image of a window leading to darkness guarded a figure that only lurked out of the corner of his eye, enough to scare him to death. He pulled it open and breathlessly ran out of the room, finding himself face to face with Matthew once again, who had never looked angrier. "You left me behind, you left me with them", he whispered to his older brother. "You created them, didn't you? How could you do that to me?!" And the words weren't only whispers anymore, but turned into something much louder, something that resembled a scream for help.

"Will someone explain to me what is going on?" Matthew looked towards the other two, crossing his arms and attempting to seem more threatening than he was.

"Matthew..." Arthur sighed, shaking his head on a moment to regain his thoughts. "Alfred has hallucinations. He's... He sees and hears things that aren't there."

"Are you out of your fucking mind? What kind of drugs have you two been on while we were away?"

"It's not like that! He's having a psychotic break, he's not on bloody LSD or whatever you have in mind. And we need to help him, I just don't know how..." Arthur defensively glared the other down, kind of regretting he was shorter than all of them since it didn't make him look intimidating.

"You're trying to tell me that my little brother is psychotic? Ever since I was gone for only two weeks?"

"Unfortunately, and it's not your fault..." Arthur muttered, his facial expressions almost apathetic. Yet he was far from that. He cared a lot, just hid it in a different way. "I just hope you won't think of him any different. He's still Alfred Jones, he just needs help. I've learned that the hard way."

Matthew was left in absolute shock. He had never thought that it would happen, that someone he loved would suffer like that. "Then why didn't you give him over to someone that can help?" He embraced his brother tightly as the younger was still shaking immensely, burying his face into the other's shirt and waiting for it to stop, for the voices to quit counting down every bad thing about him. It was unbearable, it broke him emotionally, especially the fact he had no ability to stop it.

"I cannot just let him go like that." Arthur looked down, almost ashamed of himself, and Adrienne placed a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. "It might be selfish, but I can't let him go. And he doesn't want that either."

"Listen, I don't give a shit about that. If my brother is delusional and can't tell apart his visions and reality to that point that he can't function normally, I'm more than willing to admit him into a psychiatric unit of some sort. Like the one we have literally two blocks away." Matthew sternly stated his opinion, but in reality, it would be difficult for him as well, to have his brother locked away from the dangers of this world created by his own mind. "I'm sorry, but that's just how it goes. And now when you say it, I'm not even surprised he's going through this. With all the shit that happened throughout our childhood, the real surprise would be if he was okay."

If Alfred wasn't hearing all those voices at the same time loudly, he'd be passionately fighting against being sent to a mental hospital or any similar thing, but the only thing he could do at the moment was breathe in and out at a rapid pace as he failed at calming down even in Matthew's embrace.

Everything was cloudy. Nothing made sense.

You did this. You did this. You gave in. They poisoned your mind. You gave in. You're so weak.

"Won't... Listen to you..." He whispered to the voices, thinking that they could hear him. He lost the knowledge of what was fake, and genuinely started believing they were real, around him, inside him.

You're nothing but a burden to everyone around you.

They know all your secrets.

Just stop trying. You're so utterly worthless. You can't do anything right.

"He's suffering, but he's going to suffer even more if we do that!" Arthur opposed Matthew, and Adrienne stayed quiet, keeping her opinions to herself. Instead, she approached Alfred and gently took him away from Matthew's embrace, he didn't fight back and simply had a lost gaze into the distance as she gently took his hand into hers and tried to make him keep eye contact. Which was impossible. "At least he thinks that, we already discussed it."

"You're being irrational, but luckily I'm here now and I will be the one making the decisions for my family, okay?" 

Alfred blinked a few times as he finally managed to regain his balance, he stopped crying overtime but the anxiety still remained, the voices were still there... He quickly went from being a screaming mess to almost showing no emotion about it at all, just emptily staring at absolutely nothing. Adrienne noticed, and she lead him away from Matthew and Arthur who were still arguing about what to do. She didn't know what would be the best choice, since she didn't hear Alfred's thoughts on it yet. But in her opinion, perhaps it would be the best to give him the needed treatment rather than waiting it out, which was impossible. It would never stop if they left it untreated. She wasn't born yesterday, and knew a lot of things about it.

"Alright then. Take him to a godforsaken psych ward, make him throw away his dreams and lock him into a completely silent room, isolate him from society... There are better ways! I'm not saying he doesn't need to be treated, I'm just trying to prove a point that it would certainly be better if he had us on the way through it!" The Englishman was nearly shouting, still kept his temper to himself since he already had too much yelling in the past weeks.

"I just want the best for him", the other said in a low voice, keeping his eyes locked to Arthur's. "He's my little brother. I don't want to hurt him... I want him to get better. And as much as I despise the thought of him going to such a place, it might be the best way. No matter what you say."

Arthur let out a long breath, thinking about it for a longer moment. It was a dilemma, probably the biggest one he had to face. But Matthew had a point, it could help Alfred gather his sanity at least a little bit, with the hope it wouldn't have just the opposite effect of making him break down to pieces. That was what Arthur feared the most about it.

But he didn't want to fight, he had no strength left to disagree.

"Alright. Let's hope you're correct on this one."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

After they somehow managed to put Alfred into a calmer state, and made him agree to stay in the room by himself for a while - to which he said yes only if there was some kind of louder music filling the silence - the three ended up spending the entire afternoon in the cafeteria, discussing what they were going to do with him next. Matthew was all for giving him proper care, while Arthur was apprehensive about what kind of outcome would sending him to a mental unit have on him. Perhaps good, but there was a big chance of it being really bad.

"But how would Liz and Gilbert react to coming back all the way from Europe and finding out that their best friend isn't at the university with them anymore? Just like that?" The Brit gave all possible arguments against it, yet a rational part of him knew that he was most probably just being selfish, he wanted Alfred next to him no matter what... And he didn't want him get taken away. "I can provide everything for him. I will help him with absolutely everything he needs, I swear."

"Arthur, you're not a psychiatrist. You're not even a certified psychologist yet. I know emotional support is important, but he needs a real doctor. I mean, from what I've seen, he's barely holding up, and you say that's how it has been for the past two weeks. That's major. I can't look at him suffer like that. And if Liz and Gilbert are our true friends, which I'm more than sure they are, they will understand." 

Still, Matthew had better arguments. Alfred needed to be provided with actual medication, therapy, care, something he couldn't get right if he stayed with them at the dormitory, at least not right now when he seemed to be at his worst state so far. Maybe it was only the beginning.

"What about his dream of becoming an artist?" Arthur fought back again.

"He's not going to be there forever, you know. And the good thing with colleges and universities is that you can always come back when you're ready. They only care about the money and you're good. And he can always pursue the art dream, wherever he is, on the go. That's the best thing about being an artist."

Adrienne nodded in agreement to his lover's words, though it saddened her a lot to be put in this kind of situation. She empathized greatly with everyone she loved, and she could feel all of Alfred's sorrow on the inside just by looking into his clouded eyes. "I'm all for getting him any kind of help." She commented, exhaling deeply and drinking a full cup of coffee in less than a few minutes because of the stress.

This was the last thing the two wanted to come back home to. A loved one struggling. There was nothing worse than that, no feeling more crushing or devastating. But life just wasn't fair, it never was and never would be, they knew that all too well.

The Brit had no more words to say. They were both right, it was the only thing to do. He would just have to face it - he was going to get separated from Alfred and there was no way to avoid that happen. It was going to be like a weight on top of their shoulders for all of them, everyone who was close to him, but they wanted the best for him and that was everything that mattered. Putting health first, both mental and physical, because those are of the same value.

"You speak wise words, Matthew Jones, and I hate to say it, but I have to agree with you. After all, I want him to recover from this. It's just, I met him not so long ago, and I wanted to see more of him, more of who he truly is. And now he's already getting ripped from my arms." Arthur sighed, a wave of guilt washing over him as soon as he said the words, he didn't want to make this about him. He didn't want to be labelled selfish and uncaring, something he really wasn't.

"You'll get to see the best of him once he comes back." The American gave the other a small, promising smile. "Also, I think you should be the one telling him about what we decided. I mean, this is going to be the hardest on him, out of all of us, and you're his partner. His guide, in a way. You should do it."

"Me? How am I supposed to--"

"You know that, Arthur. Gently, but convincingly."

Arthur frowned as he thought over the words he was going to say, nodding at the couple in front of him and exhaling deeply once again before he made his way out of the cafeteria. He glanced at them, Adrienne giving him a nod of encouragement. Oh, this was going to be difficult for all of them.

It hurt, it simply hurt a lot. He didn't want to be away from Alfred for god knows how long. Visits weren't going to be enough for them to get the most out of their relationship.

He almost regretted coming to America, meeting Alfred, instantly falling in love with him...

Why did it have to hurt so much?

Once he made his way towards the dorm room he shared with the American, he opened the door in shaky movements and spotted his lover on the top bed, still drawing into the same sketchpad he did earlier. He seemed tense and stressed, and not relaxed as he tried to show he was, and he kept whispering things to himself under his breath, talking back to the voices poisoning his mind with unrealistic perceptions of himself and the world he lived in. But luckily it wasn't too bad to the point of him having a panic attack because of the radio he let fill the silence as a background noise.

"Alfred, we need to talk. It's important." Arthur broke his little peace with the words, yet he uttered them softly, without scaring the other boy too much. "Will you let me sit up there with you?"

Alfred didn't move his gaze from the notebook on his lap, instead just nodded as a positive answer and shifted a little bit towards the wall so there was enough place for two people to be. His behavior wasn't the only thing that had a drastic change over the course of weeks. It was his drawings and paintings, too, which went from being the most relaxing pieces of art to a mess of everything and anything, whatever impossible image he was forced to see, along with the words he was told inside his mind. To Arthur, they were a little bit disturbing. And that was an understatement. "What do you want to talk about?" He asked fearfully once the Brit made himself comfortable next to him.

"We've talked a bit... And we got to a decision." He began speaking, finally gaining Alfred's full attention as he averted his gaze from the drawing just to look straight into Arthur's gorgeous green eyes, one of the rare things that were able to calm him. "It's best for you if we get you professional help now. The earlier, the better. It gives you a bigger chance for recovery."

Recovery did sound nice. Having whispers in the back of his head just for them to turn into full blown psychosis two months later wasn't really nice to experience. "I see." But again, he didn't want to be hospitalized.

"It won't be a long stay, and it cannot be that bad. The Yale New Haven hospital looks pretty aesthetic, I googled it." He wanted to break the tension with a bit of their usual joking around, but the stress was too big for such things. "I assure you, they can help you. And you won't even have to sit in the quiet."

"What if they just want to use me and manipulate me into doing things I don't want to?" 

"All of the people there just want to help, trust me. People like me, but who would actually be good psychologists." Arthur felt a bit of relief when he managed to make Alfred chuckle a little. He noticed the younger was trying to take his hand, so he saved him the trouble and softly intertwined their fingers together, leaning up on his shoulder and taking in the scent of true love, tenderness and affection he craved so much, he wished to have more of. He couldn't help but tear up a little, no matter how hard he tried to stay strong now when Alfred needed it the most. "What do you say?" He asked as a tear rolled down his pale cheeks, and he wiped it off with his hand before Alfred could see he was crying.

"Okay." Alfred responded in a near silent tone of voice. "But I'm only doing it for you. Not for Matthew, not for anyone else... For you, I want to get better." He muttered, biting his lip so he wouldn't start crying as well. "I'm scared, but I know that once I get out of there, I can be with you again without being a burden and pushing you away. That's what makes it worth it."

"I'm proud of you", the Brit whispered, hugging Alfred tightly and holding onto him, afraid to let go. "You made the right choice, and I'm proud of you for that." He encouraged him further, pretending he was okay with it, acting as if he wasn't going to burst into sobs once Alfred got out of his sight.

"Arthur", Alfred spoke softly, noticing how the other was lightly shivering, unable to hide his sadness, "we can't separate without a kiss."

They both agreed on that one, and the next thing Arthur felt was Alfred's lips against his, the warmth surrounding them in a matter of seconds as they melted in the kiss, never wanting it to end. It was too good, real love, a connection their young minds hadn't felt ever before.  
Arthur wrapped his arms around the other's waist in the most warmhearted way, and for the first time in quite a while, Alfred felt truly safe. Nothing could take this moment away from him, absolutely nothing, and it would stay imprinted in his memory until the end of his days.

There would come a time when they would be happy again.

\- - -

"I can't believe they don't allow phones and internet at psych wards. I'm going to miss out on the latest gossips", Alfred joked around to hide his fear as they packed a suitcase full of appropriate clothing - after reading the awfully strict rules of the hospital, they came to a realization that he wouldn't be able to bring a single hoodie with strings, nothing metal, which was kind of absurd. And it meant that more than half of his wardrobe was out of use. Who would even think of hurting someone with a hoodie string?

On the other side, it was better to stay safe than sorry.

"We'll give you all the updates, don't worry. There are visits every day from seven to eight in the afternoon." Arthur commented, zipping up a bag of essentials he'd need during his stay.

There were no cameras allowed either, as well as laptops, any kind of wires, anything that might act as danger. But it wasn't all terrible, since he was still granted the usage of pens, pencils, art supplies and sketchbooks, everything he personally needed to survive.

"Thank goodness, I hate being alone for longer than twenty four hours." Alfred sighed in relief.

In reality, he had never been so scared in his entire life. This was surreal, he was being sent to a place he dreaded so greatly, and he was doing it all because he loved Arthur too much and didn't want to let him down. He still didn't believe that he would be helped in the hospital, rather clung onto the delusional thought that they would ruin him even more.

But he was always an optimist at the core of his true personality, always hoped for the best. Even though right now, it seemed almost hopeless, there was a possibility it would be different, that it would turn him around for the better.  
And he didn't want to be a nuisance to anyone he loved. So if making lives of those around him easier meant willingly getting admitted into a mental unit, then he'd do it.

Matthew and Adrienne were there as well, helping him pack - the older brother even made a list of everything he needed, and got multiple comments about his strange obsession with making lists, to which he just responded with 'organizing is key'.

Alfred disagreed.

"Alright, we got everything. Harmless clothing, shoes, your ID card, two sketchbooks, your diary--"

"It's a thought book, Matt, not a diary! I'm not ten years old, for fuck's sake..."

"--and also books and crosswords to keep you busy. You're going to get even more things there, i suppose. By the way, that is a diary. It says that right here, on the cover. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, fuck off." Alfred rolled his eyes, snatching the list from Matthew's hand and ripping it in two right in front of his eyes. "How do 'ya like that, huh?" He dropped the ripped papers on the floor, making Matthew gasp in mock horror, placing his hand on his chest.

"I swear to god, these two are the most immature beings we'll ever meet." Adrienne whispered over to Arthur, and they both laughed.

"To me, it's just adorable when Alfred tries to seem threatening, but he's like fifteen centimeters shorter than Matthew so it looks nothing like he wants it to look."

"Yeah, just like when you try to threaten anyone." She smirked, crossing her arms in satisfaction as she saw Arthur's mortified facial expression. He hated being insulted about his height, but it was constantly a fuel for everyone to tease him about it.

But in such a situation, they couldn't set a joking mood for a long amount of time, since it all shot back to the same thing - Alfred, and how they were just about to drop him off at the New Haven hospital.

Alfred carried a backpack of clothing over his shoulder while Matthew carried the big suitcase for him as all four of them exited the room, putting Arthur in charge of the keys and locking the door behind them. This was it, the final thing they needed to do. Say goodbye, but not farewell.

Farewells were for times they would never see each other again, something they didn't even want to think of.

Goodbyes were those bittersweet hugs at doorsteps before a voice from the back would call their name and say to hurry up, because it was time to go, and they would urgently whisper a couple of more words to each other accompanied by a quick kiss on the lips, only then they would they be able to turn away.

At the dormitory's reception, he got checked out and received a paper with written down proof that he was allowed to leave, but temporarily. Not permanently, he always planned to go back.

The Yale New Haven Hospital was only a few blocks away. They didn't need a lot of time to arrive, and once they were there, the outside didn't seem as scary. It was aesthetically pleasing, the blue and white building with the logo on the big sign at the entrance. Psychiatric care, it said on the door they were entering, and Alfred could feel his chest tighten at the mere sight of the words.

He got checked in by a really nice lady at the counter, and even Matthew needed to give his signature under the column 'caretaker' which was something he, to Alfred, somehow was, just as much as Alfred was to him. They examined his bag and suitcase thoroughly, his clothing as well, to make sure there was a hundred percent nothing dangerous in them and on him. Which was true.

After he got assigned with a room and a psychologist that would take care of him, Alfred had a couple of more minutes to say that last, most painful goodbye which had to be the hardest part of everything despite all of them knowing they could visit him at least a couple of days a week.

He needed to hug it out with Adrienne, then Arthur, but finally with Matthew, who was slightly apprehensive about it. That was, until he saw Alfred was responding just as enthusiastically, tightly embracing him and hoping to stay like that forever.

"I never congratulated you on your engagement." He whispered to his older brother. "So, uh... Congrats. I might have acted differently at first, but... I'm really happy for you."

Even Matthew shed a couple of silent tears, yet he was the type of person to never let anyone see his weakest side. "Thank you. It means a lot."

"I'll miss you." Alfred added shakily, feeling like a helpless child again in a split second.

"Take care, Alfred."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Once Matthew, Arthur and Adrienne were, on Alfred's misfortune, asked to leave, he was left at the mercy of the hospital and the psychologist he was assigned with. He found out her name was Emilia Steilsson, she was from Iceland or Norway, he wasn't paying too much attention to the country she mentioned just to make small talk with him. Immediately, she lead him towards the small room he would be staying in and helped him unpack the essentials for the night, putting a tight, white bracelet-like object around his wrist with his surname and his room number in handwriting, something that, apparently, each patient needed to have for identification.

The room he was staying in was cramped up, pretty small, but it wasn't as scary looking as he thought it would be. The walls were purely white, and there was a somewhat comfortable looking bed on the right. An empty desk stood in the top left corner, and there were two heavy, metallic chairs on each side of it. Since he wasn't one of those patients who were physically threatening to others around him, he wasn't put on special care and didn't get restraints, but in case anything happened, there were guards for each part of the hallway. That put him on edge. He didn't like to be constantly checked on and examined, it made him feel limited, but on the other hand he appreciated the care because there could have people much more aggressive than him, who were able to hurt others, and not only themselves.

The young, silver haired girl who took care of Alfred took him to an ordination where he got changed into first night clothing that the hospital gave each of them - a plain white t-shirt and grey trousers that reminded him of a less comfortable version of the sweatpants he'd usually wear. He had a blood test taken, height and weight measured, and a diagnosis which they managed to conclude by talking to him, getting into family history documents on the computer and examining his behavior, his disorganized speech and excessive blinking at times, unfocused look, dilated pupils, all of the things that followed his sudden rush of paranoia that came back to him right at the moment he was separated from the ones he loved.

He was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, and he didn't like the sound of that in the slightest. It was the most common type of this illness, which meant there were more resources to fight it. Yet that didn't give him much reassurance.

Apparently, he had a chance of developing it because of his grandmother, who also suffered from it - which was something he didn't know up until now - but what increased his risk was the car crash and the life threatening head injury he received.

It made sense, and he didn't know how to feel about that. He wished he could go back to normal, when he couldn't hear these sadistic voices and didn't have to bear with seeing a horror movie play out right in front of his face. But that was probably never going to happen again, unless he got heavily medicated, sedated and put to sleep. Which, obviously, didn't sound too appealing.

"I know you're really scared right now", one of the psychiatrists told him, "but things can change for the better. There are things such as group and personal therapy that can help, and a healthy dose of medication for the start."

Alfred sat on the chair across her, adjusting his glasses and fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt, anything just so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with the doctors who were currently around him. Scared was an understatement. He was anxious to death, wanted to scream at the world, at the universe, and ask it why it had to be so goddamn unfair. What did he ever do to deserve this?

That was something that would never make sense to him.

"How long do I have to stay here?" He muttered the question insecurely, gaze firmly locked to the floor the entire time he was there, except when they asked him to look in required directions.

"Until the end of May, unless things don't change. Then it would be about six weeks." The doctor gently said, choosing words carefully with skill so she wouldn't say anything to make the boy even more paranoid than he already was.

What? That was such a long time! How was he supposed to finish his first year of college then?  
It didn't even occur to him that he'd be staying more than a week, and that he would have to drop everything he was working on just for this hospitalization.

"I thought it would be only a few days." He admitted, a perplexed look on his face as he finally looked up to meet her eyes.

"You're not able to take care of yourself, and your roommate back at the dormitory can't do that for you either. Luckily, people here are specialized to do exactly that, so you'll have no problem. Trust me, you will get used to it in the blink of an eye. Most people do, and you seem like a bright, young man."

"Well, I'm not so bright anymore since I'm here, isn't that right?" He spat out almost angrily, surprising the lady with the sudden intensity of the words.

But she knew what frequent mood swings could do, and she learned to bite her tongue around patients overtime, since it wasn't them talking, it was their illness. They were there to get better, she couldn't shout back even if she wanted to.

"I'll give you your first dose of medication now, if that sounds alright with you." Instead of telling him something in response to his small frustration fit, she changed the topic and got up from her seat, walking over to the locked cabinets with see-through glass doors which were full of different bottles, boxes, colourful pills and with different labels. The box she took was white with green edges, and the text Haldol, haloperidol stood in the middle in bold letters.

"Are those pills?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He had no clue what they were going to give him and how his body was going to react to it, but he didn't like anything that was happening here. Each movement of the psychiatrist put him on edge, and he worried about what she was going to do next.

"No, the first dose comes in an injection. No more than two milligrams, don't worry."

"Great, more injections. Is this one strong enough to kill me?" He sarcastically shot back, but he immediately wished he could have taken back the words. "Shit, I didn't mean that. I don't want to die yet. Don't kill me, I'll do anything!" And suddenly, his mood went from defensive to scared once again, almost jumping out of his chair as an instinctive movement to run away.

"I wasn't planning to." She said calmly, rolling up the sleeve on his t-shirt and running over the skin of his shoulder with something cold, a transparent fluid with a characteristic smell, it kind of reminded him of alcohol. Perhaps that's what it was. This was the second time today he felt it on his body, and he couldn't say he enjoyed either time.

It only took a momentary stab of pain for his muscles to tense, and then relax again after a few seconds passed. "That wasn't too bad." He admitted, causing the doctor to lightly chuckle.

"I thought so. Now you're free to go to your room. Of course, ms. Steilsson will lead you to it." She looked towards the patient and reserved young girl who cleaned up the desk and locked the cupboard with medication.

"Absolutely." She replied with a small smile, letting her silver coloured hair fall as she untangled her ponytail, shoving the hairband into the pocket of her blue uniform. "If you're ready, we can go now."

As he got up from the chair, Alfred felt a little dizzy on a moment, seeing all black and stars in front of his eyes making him almost fall back down if it wasn't for the edge of the desk he was able to hold onto. He was utterly confused about what was happening, simply lost, scared, and didn't know how to react to any of this. So instead of overthinking, he obediently followed the lady out of the ordination and closed the door behind them without saying goodbye.

He didn't want to say goodbye. Those words were reserved for people he cared about, like Arthur.

Goddammit, Arthur. It hadn't even been more than a few hours, and he already missed him so, so much.

And the voices had their fair share of reminding him how he wasn't going to be able to see Arthur every day, which just made things so much worse.

"Hopefully these fucking meds work, and you sons of bitches will stop talking already", he muttered in frustration, but also devastation, not quiet enough for the psychologist to miss the words. She sympathetically smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she lead him into his room which was right down the hallway from the ordination he was in. Room 72. He was told that the recent patient just left the room yesterday, so it was freshly cleaned up and everything.  
As if that made him feel any better.

"You're done with everything for today. I'll come check on you before sleep once more, around ten, and then you're free. It would be preferable if you tried to get some sleep, but I understand if you can't. I can even stay with you throughout the night if you're afraid to be alone, since my other patients don't require that very often." She spoke in the gentlest tone she could muster, trying to make him feel as comfortable as that was possible, even though she knew very well how new patients react to things. The lost looks on their faces always broke her heart, it was one of the hardest things she had to witness working here. All the emotional pain. And she empathized with people easily, that's why she wanted this job. To help, to heal, to rebuild what's broken in their souls and to see them smile again once they felt at least a tiny bit better.

"I just..." Alfred sat himself on the bed - if earlier he thought the bed was comfortable, all of that was gone once he sat on it - which felt like being on the bow of an old, wooden ship. Well, there goes his chance to sleep tonight. "I just don't want there to be silence. I hate silence. It makes the voices angrier."

Emilia nodded in understanding, but she knew that no electronic devices were allowed in the room for him to play music of any kind. Unfortunately, there had to be silence. "I know what you mean, but I can't give you music. Luckily, you shouldn't be hearing the voices for much longer, since she gave you some really heavy medication. And if you're really bothered by the quiet for a longer amount of time, you can tell me and we'll talk once I come back to check on you. We can talk all you want."

He sighed heavily, curling up to his knees as he tried to regain his thoughts. It seemed like the dose wasn't affecting him yet, which was perfectly normal considering it hadn't even been ten minutes since he got it. Soon, he hoped, soon they would stop telling him to hurt others and himself. Soon they wouldn't chase him through the dark.

At least he hoped.

"I understand." He said in a soft voice. "I guess I'll try to draw to take my mind off things. Is that okay?"

"Sure thing. I'll come back soon." She responded in the same manner, patting his shoulder as a non-verbal sign of encouragement before she left the room, firmly locking it behind him and rechecking twice to make sure it was locked properly.

Then, he was left completely alone, at the mercy of his unstable mind.

In silence.

What are you going to do now?  
There's no one to protect you.  
Did you really think you could escape?

Everybody hates you, that's why they put you here.  
To isolate you from them.  
You're just a burden. So stupid. Pathetic.

Worthless.

Hopeless.

A mistake.

Disgusting.

And now you just sit in silence.  
We're your only friends.

"I don't think I want to have friends if they're this mean to me." He replied to each of the words, falling back down onto the uncomfortable bed that felt like it was made of wood. God, that hurt.

You're locked in here forever.  
Your dreams are dead.  
You're a horrible artist.

"Now you've done it." Alfred scoffed angrily, the last statement bothering him more than any of the other words. His art meant the world to him, and there was nothing that would take away the satisfaction of drawing or painting. Especially painting, but that was something he couldn't do right now.

But he still had a bunch of pencils and a sketchbook that he placed on the desk as an essential item to have.

He sat on one of the horrible looking metal chairs, taking the pencil into his hand and flipping the notebook to the first clean page. He couldn't let the voices win, so he had to draw to defeat them.

Stop that! Drop that pencil! It's going to kill you!

Despite partly believing their delusional words, he started drawing a creature similar to the shadows appearing in the corner of his eyes every now and then, but instead of colouring it all black as it was, he filled its inside with all the hateful words and surrounded it with lines that were supposed to represent cobwebs, a way of saying he was glued to these words and they didn't want to go away, no matter how hard he tried.

"Can you still say I'm a terrible artist?" He shouted at them, taking the sketchbook in his hands and slamming it back on the desk fiercely, throwing the pencil on the floor in rage.

Horrible. Disgusting. Terrible artist. The three words repeated in his head like a broken record, and he wished to scream in agony at the top of his lungs.

But he couldn't. People could hear. He could be caught.

Angrily ripping out the drawing from the notebook, he crumbled up the paper and threw it at the wall, more specifically, at the dark figure he saw standing there observing him from afar. "Go away! Leave me alone!" He yelled in desperation, dropping his face into the palm of his hands as he burst into tears, constantly taking deep, but frantic breaths.

Nothing would ever be okay again. At least he believed so.

These voices were bound to follow him through his entire life until he or someone else ends it.

And it was all his fault.

All your fault. It's all your fault. Everything is your fault.

So worthless.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Alfred spent the rest of the evening drowning in his own misery, expressing his pain through drawings that ended up being thrown everywhere over the room floor. He kept hysterically crying, shouting at the world, the universe, and himself for being too weak to properly function. He still didn't exactly understand why he was here, in the psychiatric ward, why he couldn't have stayed in the dorm with Arthur and kiss him until the pain finally went away.

Now, when he was here, everything was in an even bigger haze.

The medicine hadn't started taking effect on him yet, unfortunately, so the hallucinations just kept growing stronger because of the silence surrounding him. He felt as if the four walls of the room were narrowing more and more with each second, and there was very little oxygen in the room.

His mind was racing, he was going over each and every horrifying possibility - him getting killed, tortured, manipulated... The delusional thoughts reminded him of danger, only danger and nothing else.

Everything felt terrible.

Shadows chased him in the dark, sadistic screams shattered his skull and broke his heart, and all hope he previously had disintegrated into thin air, as well as his happiness. He was thoroughly convinced that happiness was simply an illusion, and his life didn't matter.

Soon enough, he found himself curled up in the corner of the room, shaking intensely out of fear and desperation, thinking about how nice it would feel to disappear for at least a while, until the pain stopped. Kind of like a hibernation. But that wasn't possible, and the fact that he wasn't able to end this suffering made him feel another thousand times worse. He kept sobbing into the palms of his hands, whispering to the voices to goddamn stop already, yet nothing was working. He felt so lonely, broken to pieces, lost, perplexed, and wondered how his life changed so abruptly, only in a matter of weeks.

He didn't hear when someone was opening the door, but the sudden sound of footsteps scared him because he wasn't aware who they belonged to - and the next thing he knew was that he screamed a string of unintelligible words out loud, shifting even closer to the wall, realizing that whatever could happen, he was cornered, without a way to escape.

"It's just me, Alfred." A familiar, soft voice echoed through the space around them, and he blinked a couple of times, looking towards the figure of the person approaching him. He could barely resemble who it was through the haze. "It's Emilia. I came to check on you before sleep,"

Oh, thank god.

Even though he didn't know her for a long while, and she was nothing special to him, just his psychologist, he had this gut feeling that he was able to trust her. She wouldn't hurt him, he knew that.

"Please, help me..." He mustered out through tears and she didn't even hesitate to do as he asked. Holding out her hand for him to get up easier, she encouraged him to stand instead of being curled up in his own corner. And he did as he was told, standing up and holding onto her since he could barely balance himself properly. "They are trying to hurt me." He whispered, his body trembling more than ever.

He wasn't violent, unlike some of her patients who often had the tendency to be damaging to themselves or others. He was just desperate for it to end, but would never hurt her or anyone else just because of his own pain. That was fully against his morals.

"No one is going to hurt you while I'm here, okay? I'm keeping an eye on you, so you can relax." She further encouraged him as they both sat down on the bed, the younger still shaking to the point of almost passing out if she wasn't there to keep him conscious. "I promised you I can stay the night, and it seems like that's a good idea, right?"

"Don't leave me here alone", Alfred pleaded, and she hugged him close once she knew it was alright, because affection and closeness didn't suit everyone. Some ran away from it, some liked to stay at a safe distance, so she needed to discover that trait with each patient again and again.

"I won't, I promise. We can talk about whatever you want." She gently said, making him keep eye contact with her so he wouldn't get lost in the fantasy world created by his own mind.  
If it wasn't too late already. "Focus on me. Don't give those creatures attention, that's exactly what they want from you."

So they talked about feelings, even Alfred's deepest ones which he did not usually let many people see, she calmed him down and guided him through taking many deep breaths, he showed her his drawings and she said what she loved about each one. He still felt scared, and utterly lost, but the endless conversation made the voices quiet down, he appreciated that greatly. She told him stories about her home back in Iceland, and he shared childhood memories that made him smile even though they were long gone. He opened up about how he lost his parents as well, and she listened to each word, empathized with his pain and showed him that she truly cares. Even if she was only a stranger to him, this made them closer in a way.

But Alfred's peace couldn't last too long.

At about four in the morning, when Emilia was already pretty much tired out and sleepless, he had a sudden panic attack, remembering the fact that he wasn't going to see Arthur whenever he wanted to, and she had to comfort him again, reminding him about how good it was going to feel after he finally left the hospital and spent all the lost time with Arthur to its best. 

He fell asleep at five when that first dose of Haldol finally hit him hard, resting on the uncomfortable bed after what he couldn't decide was the worst, or one of the worst nights of his life. No matter the conversations he had, no matter the right to open up, he didn't feel at home, he only felt fear, and it exhausted him to the point of passing out. Emilia was satisfied to see him getting at least some sleep, but she needed some just as much as he did.

Once he was out like a light, she didn't leave the room yet, but rather examined all the drawings he threw over the floor in a fit of rage before she found him in the corner of the room crying. And she had to admit, he was an artist. A true one, at that word. In each line, there was emotion, and the pictures showed in the most creative way how he felt. Sure, some of them could appear disturbing, but they were still beautiful. She picked them up from the ground, neatly putting them all on the same pile on the desk, then approached the sleeping boy and covered him with a blanket in a few soft movements before she left the room and firmly locked it once again, though she felt no need to do that since she knew he wasn't dangerous. At all.

She liked him, in a way. When he smiled, it was genuine, and that's something she didn't see often. And she had seen a lot of different faces, different people with colourful personalities. Not many patients managed to make her safe around them, and she wouldn't willingly stay awake for so long for each of them. Call that subjective, but not everyone deserved it.

Alfred certainly did.

\- - -

Arthur couldn't sleep that night, either.

The thought of being alone in his dorm room while his loved one was at psychiatric care bothered him far too much, and he couldn't even close his eyes on a second because of the overwhelming stress. He had too many questions, and had already looked over every single possibility, bad and good, that could have been happening to Alfred.

Were they taking good care of him? Did he feel better or worse? Was the assigned psychologist kind enough to treat him the way he needed to be treated? Were they genuinely there to talk, or did they just overdose and sedate him to make him sleep for days so they wouldn't have to deal with him? Did he cry, scream, fight back?

He just wanted him to be safe and sound, wherever he was. Perhaps Matthew was right, he needed the treatment from actual psychologists, but on the other hand, it could make it worse for him. Not everyone has the same experience. Some people say it ruined them even more, and some say it helped them get back on their feet.

Oh, he couldn't wait for seven in the afternoon to come along so he could visit him. Time suddenly started going too slowly, unlike some days when he felt as if time flew by too quickly for him to even look left and right when crossing the road.

He kept tossing and turning in bed, until he completely gave up on sleep and ended up on his computer instead, rereading the project work he did for tomorrow's Psychology class he needed to take. Interestingly enough, the project was on awareness for psychotic illnesses, something he got inspired to do once he took Alfred to the school counselor and discovered he was suffering from a psychotic attack that not many people knew how to treat properly. In a way, he was utterly scared of presenting that to the college teacher tomorrow, since it was his first ever presentation since he came to America, and he didn't want to break down crying in the middle of it just at the thought of Alfred's suffering, each time he trembled in his embrace and pleaded for it to go away.

'If we spread awareness, and shed light on the conditions, then perhaps people will start taking action and consider helping people who struggle from it instead of leaving them to their own devices, throwing them onto the pile of unneeded, unwanted ash and dust as they assign them names such as crazy or insane. Maybe then, more young minds will become interested in creating just the exact medicine that will forever cure schizophrenia once and for all, even in high functioning cases. But if we keep quiet and do not speak up about it at all, then nothing will change, and people will only suffer more because of the heavy stigma putting pressure on them, as if they hadn't had enough pressure with their disorders already. And if that's something we want, for people to keep suffering, then this society isn't worth anyone's time.'

He came back to that part, the one that took him the shortest amount of time to write, since his fingers simply flew across the keyboard in quick search for correct words, pouring his heart and soul into it as much as he could.

And it was all because of Alfred.

That goddamn lovable, attractive, affectionate, caring son of a bitch that made Arthur fall harder than he had ever fallen, especially because of the short amount of time it took him to get close to him.

He couldn't believe they took him away so early. Alfred was still so young, he didn't deserve any of this happening to him. There was a whole life ahead waiting for him, and he had to be stuck in the hospital because he suddenly lost the ability to perceive reality properly and to take care of himself?

What kind of unfair game was this?

Why were those with the happiest smiles always the ones who suffered the most?!

If the sound isolation of these damn dorm rooms was any better than these thin siporex walls, Arthur would scream out loud to the injustice of this universe. 

People would always ask him why he wasn't religious, and he never knew the correct answer up until now.

To him, there would be no god as long as there was suffering. And Alfred was just the example - a few weeks ago, he acted like the happiest person in this world, Arthur had no idea it would lead to this... This horror, if he had the right to call it that. If there was a god, why would it make such an innocent, kindhearted creature suffer like that?

There was simply no logic in that.

The cruelty of this universe would never cease to amaze him.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Only three hours after Alfred had first fallen into a deep sleep, his peace had to be broken, once again, by Emilia who came into the room a little bit before 8 in the morning to notify him about breakfast that was soon to be served down in the hall. He was still new here, and needed someone to show him where it was.

He got up from bed drowsily, lost and confused about where he was on a moment until she taught him an exercise on how to bring himself back to reality. It was more of a tactic for people with bad anxiety, but also helped those who couldn't find themselves in current time and space. And after he did realize what his surroundings were, she took him to the ordination so he could get another shot of medication that was supposed to keep him sane for at least half of the day. He got dressed in his usual clothing that he had packed from home, his typical blue t-shirt and trousers, and obediently followed her towards the hall downstairs where all the other patients were, already having breakfast.

As soon as they arrived, Emilia went over to the other side of the room to spend time with some other nurses, doctors and psychologists, while the patients ate on the side of the room Alfred was fearfully standing in.

If he was in his healthy state, he'd be the first one to start a conversation and socialize, take the plate with food and sit next to a random person, entertain the whole table, even get into deep existential talk after five minutes of knowing them. But now, he stood there while others were chatting - some remained silent, while some managed to make small talk.

He was far too afraid to even ask for the food. This ambient was scary to him, he didn't like anything about this place and wished he could run away back to safety, back to the people he loved and who he knew loved him back. It felt horrible being stuck somewhere he didn't want to be.

"Why are you standing here?"

A voice from behind instantly startled him, and he turned around reflexively - in moments like these, he was torn apart between wanting the voice to come from an actual person, or wanting it to rather be all in his head, and he didn't understand why that dilemma even formed in his thoughts.

Luckily, it was a real person. Someone he had never met before. And the guy was obviously a patient, with those crazy looking violet eyes, a spark of madness different from anyone Alfred had seen. He wasn't wearing a uniform, but casual patient clothing just like he himself did.

Suddenly, he was hit by a wave of tension and unease, wondering whether the man was going to hurt him or not. Right now, he didn't really feel like being killed.

"I could ask you the same thing." Alfred said with a deadpan expression on his usually very expressive face, crossing his arms defensively, not knowing how to properly act in situations like these. He himself wasn't a mentally stable person, so how was he going to deal with someone else who could have been like him?

"I was being polite, you got defensive. Watch yourself." The guy smirked a little, but it was almost scary. "My name is Ivan." He held his hand out in invitation for a handshake, yet Alfred was far too apprehensive about him.

Did he just tell him to watch himself? Who did this guy think he was, the president? He wasn't going to let himself be bossed around by anyone.

"Good for you, Ivan. I'm not telling you my name." He scoffed and glared the taller man right into his eyes. Not only was this Ivan guy taller, but he seemed bigger and stronger than the American, who suddenly felt really small beneath his mad gaze. Yet he couldn't help but fight back someone who wasn't even fighting, no matter how hard he tried to sustain himself.

"Fine, I'll just call you Jones."

"How do you know my--"

"Check your ID bracelet, you fool. It's visible from kilometers away, just like everyone else's."

Alfred felt himself fume on the inside, not that he'd show it to this bastard who came to bother him and make him feel even more scared and uncomfortable than he already was. By now, he was already over the fact that he wouldn't get any food this morning, not that he cared much. It had been almost a day since he had last eaten, anyway. He didn't give a shit about anything at this point.  
Hesitantly, he checked his wrist, and Ivan was right. He had almost forgotten about the fact that he had A. Jones clearly written on the bracelet in permanent marker. Well, dammit. He hated being embarrassed.

If only he could slap that sly smirk off Ivan's stupid face.

"Okay, you win. My name's Alfred." He gritted his teeth in a way of keeping himself together.

"That's such a common name." The other chuckled, but it was far from a friendly type of chuckle.

"Says the guy named Ivan with a Russian accent. I wasn't born yesterday, idiot. Not all Americans are ignorant." Alfred huffed in irritation.

"Why are you so keen on starting a fight with me, Alfred? I just asked you why you're standing here because you looked confused." Ivan put on an innocent, hurt act, but the American wasn't having any of that.

Alfred wasn't really in a terrible mood, in fact. He was obviously far from happy and his healthy self, but he just felt... Disoriented. Every little thing was able to make him snap, but it was different. He was detached from his emotions, lost the ability to express them properly.

But that might have just been the medication. Those things were heavy, he could feel it slowing his entire body movement down, and exhausting him to the brim. It was probably because they simply didn't want him to hurt anyone during an anger breakdown if it happened.  
Though, it still didn't really help him. He kept hearing the voices nonetheless, and his picture of reality didn't get as clear as he had expected it to get after two large doses of antipsychotics.

Who knew how many more of those he would have to take until it stopped.

"I wasn't trying to fight. You scared me, and I didn't know how else to react." He admitted with a sigh as they both finally sat down at one of the empty tables. Apparently, less people than usual came down for breakfast.

"So, tell me, Alfred, why are you here in the first place?" Ivan tried changing the topic, simply to play with the emotions of his newfound friend. He knew how flustered people get when he asked them what they were there for. Everybody was ashamed of their diagnosis, of the fact they weren't able to take care of themselves.

And this Alfred Jones guy, he seemed like the perfect target to have some fun with. Easily angered, defensive, but weak, so much shorter and smaller, emotional, easy to read like an open book - at least he thought so. Ivan couldn't help but silently chuckle to himself. All those times he was bullied in school and learnt to consider himself the weaker one just came back to him, and he couldn't hold back. It was like a strange addiction, to manipulate others.

Perhaps that was why he was there, anyway, along with the constant feeling of hollowness and emptiness that followed him wherever he went.

"I'm schizophrenic. I see and hear some shit and apparently it's making me insane, and my brother didn't even bat an eye before sending me in here. It'll be good for you, he said. But I think I got tricked, like I always do." Alfred leaned against the wall next to the table, feeling as if he could fall back asleep at any moment. "What about you?"

Huh, that didn't give Ivan the reaction he wanted. Well, it was good to have the other opening up to him, one way or the other.

"I'm not going to tell you what I'm here for."

"Yeah, 'cause you're probably a sociopath or something, and don't want me to run away from you. Well guess what, I'm not a helpless child. I could fight you off any second of the day."

"We need to discuss some rules around here, Alfred." He placed both hands on the table, leaning in closer to Alfred's face so he was glaring the young American right in his scared, darkened blue eyes.

Ivan disliked when people acted defensive, rude or aggressive towards him, because that simply didn't make him satisfied. He liked them better when they showed how vulnerable they actually was, something that Alfred always attempted to hide around people he didn't trust. Only his closest friends knew his actual softness.

"What rules? Are you gonna make me a bathroom schedule?"

"First off, you don't speak to me like that, ever." The Russian's voice suddenly went incredibly low, a sadistic expression plastered on his face. "And secondly, you don't defy anything I say, or else you'll pay for it. You can't fight me, understand? In here, I have the higher power, and you're bound to respect that. Unless you want to end up somewhere else, then go ahead and do whatever you'd like."

Alfred was startled by the sudden threatening voice and expression, and he didn't know what to say or do. He knew something bad was going to happen while he stayed here, he just felt it!

But he didn't expect that something being actually murdered by a mad Russian who obviously had the tendency of hurting himself, that was easy to conclude by the endless string of scars spreading across both of his arms. So who said he wasn't able to hurt Alfred in the same way?

Perhaps it was just his paranoia talking, but this man was definitely plotting something against him. He just didn't know what. It was confusing, the way he said he could make him end up somewhere he didn't want to be. Was it the special care section for violent patients? He certainly didn't want to end up there. And right now, that was one of his biggest concerns. That he would lash out on someone and get restraints, sedatives, anything they did to those people.

"Ivan, you're delusional", Alfred whispered in fear, not wanting to fight him aggressively any further. "Who gave you the right to call yourself the higher power? We're all equally insane around here, you know. You and I, we're both crazy. Neither of us is the higher power:" He tried to approach the situation with diplomacy, but he barely had the mental strength not to strangle the other.

"I'd choke you right now, but there are too many witnesses." Ivan chuckled, crossing his arms in satisfaction once he sensed the fear radiating from the shorter man. Sometimes, he felt as if he really did own somewhat of a power over other people, and that they deserved the torture some of them were getting. Emotional or physical, it didn't matter. It was their fault, their weakness, he thought. And sure, through some of the talk therapy he was getting in here, he learnt that it wasn't good to manipulate people, to hurt them...

Yet he enjoyed it, and didn't really understand why.

"Who let you in this country, dammit? Keep Russian psychos to Russia."

"You're really a tough one, aren't you? You'll break soon, don't worry."

"Why do you want to make me angry so badly?!" Alfred slammed his fist on the table, desperately shouting out the words, hoping that Ivan would just stop this childish game he was trying to play.

He was frustrated, tired, full of everything and done with everyone's shit. All he wanted was to be with Arthur, stay where it was safe for him.

It was just as he thought it would be. Going to a psych ward would be hitting rock bottom for him, and he knew it since the start. It was just those goddamn feelings, love, getting in the way of his rationality. If there wasn't for Arthur, he'd have said no.

Everything in his life was falling apart so quickly, and he had no idea how to stop it.  
For the first time, he felt absolutely powerless, more than ever before. And he hated it so much.

If only he could turn back time and fix his mistakes.

If only he didn't have to exist at all.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

"Why do you want to make me angry so badly?!"

Alfred couldn't take it anymore. He had to step on this Russian bastard's ego a little before things got out of hand. The last thing he felt like doing was becoming submissive to someone he just met, someone who was so delusional he thought he owned the right to proclaim himself the higher power. That's not how things worked with Alfred - this was America, the country of democracy, not the totalitarian Soviet Union with Ivan as the leader.

"You're cute when you're angry." The Russian giggled with an evil undertone to it, gaze locked to the frustrated American in front of him.

But the other didn't like that. No, he hated it. "You think I'm cute? Do you even know what anger does to me? It's all your fault, this is all your fault!" He got up from the chair in quick movements, making the entire hall turn their heads towards him in the heat of his anger breakdown. "They're getting louder, everything is screaming, and it's all because of you!"

Ivan stared at him with satisfaction in his eyes - to him, Alfred got what he deserved for all the sarcastic remarks he said earlier. "That's good, show me how mad you are right now." He followed the American by getting up as well, looking down at him with anticipation about what he was going to do next.

"What is wrong with you?!" Alfred shook his head violently, crying out in despair and hoping for the voices to stop shrieking in his mind again, wanting so badly to run away or disappear, something he had never felt in his entire life.

"Many things, that's why I'm here." The Russian simply shrugged, sinking back into his seat with his arms crossed as he watched Alfred's furious facial expressions changing throughout seconds. A sudden, immense rush of satisfaction washed over him, observing the shorter boy who was about to catch attention of the psychiatrists across the room.

Perhaps he was dangerous, after all, Emilia thought as she noticed his anger outburst. But again, the Russian he talked to was known for making a mess every now and then.

"Right, no one is hurting anyone any time soon." Two of the doctors decided to meddle in their fight, but knew very well that they would need a third person if things escalated into something physical. So Emilia agreed to join them, since Alfred was her patient and she had grown to care about him a lot even if he hadn't been there for a full day.

They took Alfred by the hands just as he was about to jump Ivan and his godforsaken smug face that he wanted to destroy, and he winced from the pain once his arms were behind his back. Fear overwhelmed him, and he didn't know how to act in this situation but simply scream out for help, thrash around in hope they would let him go.

"What, are you scared?" Ivan commented with an evil chuckle from the side, earning a sharp glare from one of the doctors. Oh, shit. He needed to keep quiet so he wouldn't end up somewhere he didn't want to be. Just like Alfred was going to, if things were going exactly how the Russian had planned.

"Let me go!" Alfred cried out loud, tears streaming down his pale face, but he didn't notice that small detail. He could only focus on the endless string of screams following every step he took - more like, tried to take, as he was held in the doctors' tight grip.

"We can't do that. You were about to fight him." One of them said sternly, but Emilia didn't like how he was treated.

"It's not your fault", she whispered to make him feel better, but he couldn't hear clearly. In fact, he couldn't hear her at all.

They took him away to the room down the corridor and to the right, the one with better security for those who were considered dangerous in any way, hands tightly held behind his back, the doctors ignoring each of his cries. It hurt Emilia to see him like that, and she didn't want anyone to be treated with such cruelty as Alfred was at that moment.

"Leave him now, I'll take over." She said with a stern, demanding expression on her face, yet the other two didn't immediately react. After all, she was young, new, what did she know about any of this?

Well, there was one thing she knew for sure - tying Alfred's hands and pushing him down onto a bed as he was screaming for help, attempting to get him sedated so he wouldn't move was not going to do him any good. They just needed to let her take over and everything would be fine. Seeing the young boy in such pain made her heart sink and her chest tighten.  
She didn't understand how fond she was of a patient until now. It wasn't in any wrong way, she just liked him more than the others. That was a new feeling for her, and she wasn't so sure whether she enjoyed it or not.

"Please", she repeated to the psychiatrists holding him down, "let me do it. You can't treat him like this, he's a patient, for goodness' sake!"

"He can hurt you, back off!"

"He'd never hurt anyone!" Emilia yelled in agitation, pushing one of them to the side so she could get her hands on the struggling American. "I'm sure, please let me--"

"Fine, go ahead. But if you end up beaten up, there's only one person you can blame, and that is you."

Thank goodness, she thought to herself. She was a hundred percent sure that Alfred's frantic movements were simply fear, and during their lengthy conversation last night he clearly told her that hurting someone was the last thing he ever planned to do. The last resort, if he was the one being attacked. In between all the hallucination and delusions, he still had morals. And his morals were important to him.

The doctors gave her a sharp glare before they threw her the keys of the secured room, slamming the door behind themselves and leaving Alfred and her to their own devices.

"It's okay, Alfred, they're gone." She sat onto the bed next to him, gently holding his hands down and untying them, tears filling her eyes to the brim. Blinking them away the best she could, she helped the boy sit up on the bed and coached him through taking deep breaths.

Inhale, and exhale. And again. Over and over, until he felt calmer.

Halfway through, Emilia started humming a soft melody to keep him distracted from the screaming voices in his mind, since she knew all too well how much he despised silence.

"Where are we...?" Alfred asked frighteningly as he regained breath, his entire body still lightly shaking as he clung to Emilia and hoped that this was nothing but a terrible nightmare, that none of this was real. He wanted to wake up and see Arthur next to him, he wished that he was still at Yale university, writing, laughing, painting...

In a way, this was a nightmare. But it was one he wasn't able to wake up from. That fact made it ten times scarier than it already was.

"It's not important." Emilia gently removed strands of blonde hair from his eyes, a movement that obviously managed to calm him down even more. "We'll get you to your room soon."

"I want to go home." Almost sounding like a helpless child, he muttered out the words insecurely, knowing that the answer would be no. That last spark of hope had burned out already. He was now left to be absorbed by darkness, just as he had always deserved - at least to him.

The psychologist sighed, biting her lip so she wouldn't cry. One of them had to stay strong for the other, and at this moment, it was her. "I'm so sorry, Alfred." She whispered and leaned her head against his. "I wish I could tell you the words you want to hear. I wish I could say you're going to be okay, you can go home, you can see Arthur... But since we can't really do that now, let's just focus on the things we can do."

"Like what?" He wondered, weirdly confused at how quick she was able to calm him down. It was her profession, but it was still a bit strange.

Though no one was able to make him feel better as good as Arthur could.

"Oh, we can sing something together! We can talk about anything. I can tell you stories, you can tell me yours. And once I get you back to your room, you can teach me how to draw. There's an entire day ahead of us, you know", she chuckled airily, hiding the sadness behind her blunt gaze. "What do you say?"

"I just want Arthur to visit me."

She expected that, but there was a reason why the statement was left unsaid.

Arthur couldn't visit him today, no one could. Once a patient gets taken away to the secure area, they aren't allowed visits for the next twenty four hours. So Arthur could come, but only tomorrow afternoon.

And they had a therapy session this evening anyway, group therapy with a few other patients of Emilia's that were already getting better and were nowhere near Alfred's state anymore.

"Don't worry, the day will flow by in no time." She tried to lift the atmosphere, but the only response she received was a sigh of desperation from the other.

I know, Alfred. I know you want to get the hell away from here. Everyone does. And I'd give anything to let you back to your little world, but if I do that, you'd have no idea how to take care of yourself.

I want to help, I need to help you.

She wanted to say so much, yet couldn't utter a single word. She simply embraced the young American, letting him cry everything out into her shoulder. He did exactly that, trying to stifle his sobs and failing miserably.

Could it be worse than this?

\- -

Down in the hall where breakfast was being served in the first place, Ivan was just about to get going back towards the room he had been staying in for a while, when he was stopped by a voice behind his back, and a soft touch on his neck. He instinctively turned around in a momentary wave of fear, sighing desperately once he realized that it wasn't a real person. They were going to haunt him once again. No, it wasn't only Alfred. He had no way out of this hell, either. He had just been here for a longer amount of time and knew what kind of misery it could get, so he tried to spark up a conversation with Alfred. Unfortunately, it took a different direction, and now he was battling the voices alone once again.

Not even large doses of medication could help him, nothing could. Just like with the American.

It wasn't his fault that they kept telling him to not only hurt himself, but other people as well. Hurting others gave them a sense of satisfaction, but to Ivan, it was an everyday struggle. As if his mind was divided, and he had no real self anymore. Just a bunch of dissociated pieces of who he once was.

He tried to ignore the voice coming from the back as he walked back to the room, followed by the psychologist that nurtured him on a daily basis. But he wished he could ignore the fact that Alfred ended up in the special care because of him, because of his delusions of higher power and everything that, naturally, pissed the other off. No one likes to be controlled.

Still, he hoped that next time he saw Alfred, the other wouldn't hate him. Perhaps next time, they'd drug him enough to keep him sane for a while. Because it hurt too much, to be unable to talk with others without ruining their lives in any way and enjoy it.

Yes, most of the time he felt as if his victims deserved what he told them, but once he'd get a flash of reality, he would feel guilty. At least on a moment. And when those little moments of guilt gathered, he felt horrible. A waste of space, a disgusting human being...

That's what people always said he was.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Back at the university, three people were waiting in anticipation for the things that were about to come. Adrienne, Matthew and Arthur hung out in the couple's dorm room together, expecting Gilbert and Elizabeta to come back from their two week travel - they were supposed to be back by now, but terrible weather in Hungary just had to delay their flight for the next day.

They didn't know how to properly tell them that Alfred currently wasn't with them, if a proper way even existed.

Would they be disgusted? Scared? Perplexed? Or a completely different emotion impossible to describe with words.

Arthur was also awaiting seven in the afternoon, the time he thought he would be able to visit Alfred. His impatience got the best of him, and his temper was bad that day, the stress from having to hold that presentation just increasing his frustration.  
Luckily, the presentation went well. He didn't cry, but it was visible that his performance was drenched in emotion. Everyone listened with care, and the professor asked why exactly he had chosen that topic.

And at first, the Brit had no idea how to answer. He wanted to keep Alfred's sudden absence a secret, but it turned out that half of the students already knew. So they talked about how they saw the young American breaking down in the hallways, running away in fear and crying in the cafeteria, to which Arthur had nothing else to say but confirm. Still, he didn't say where he exactly was.

Thank the lord that Alfred didn't take up Psychology. If he did, literally every person would know. Arthur realized that these psychology students just loved to share news all around, even stories that should have been kept as secrets.

"So, do we just tell Liz and Gilbert that Alfred is, uh, where he is?" Adrienne broke the sudden silence that fell over the room - everyone was lost in thought, confused, tired, and felt like a piece of them was missing.

Alfred was alive, but he wasn't there with them. Their best friend, brother, and lover. It was a difficult time for each of them, since they were all one big family. Even the Englishman, who wasn't with them since the start.

On top of that, both Arthur and Matthew felt guilty in a way. Arthur, for calling Alfred an attention seeker and uncaring the first time he had an attack, and Matthew, for leaving him alone for two weeks without even looking him in the eyes, and causing him more pain than he could have had if it wasn't for the older brother's childishness.

"Sure, but what if they think it's a joke? I mean, it's not every day that a friend ends up at the, uh..."

"At the bloody mental hospital, is that what you two are trying to say?" Arthur angrily joined the conversation, causing both Matthew and Adrienne to glance at him wide eyed. He was usually the quiet one when there was a group, not the one to shout. "I mean, it's not a shame to be in a psych ward. It's just a place where people get help, just like a regular hospital. People like making a big deal out of it for some reason."

Matthew sighed apologetically and nodded in understanding. "I get that. And I'm not ashamed of Alfred... In fact, just the opposite. I'm proud of him for making the right choice and going there despite the fear."

Despite what Matthew kept saying about sending Alfred to the hospital being the right choice, Arthur still constantly questioned in his mind. There were thousands of possibilities, and to him, most of them were horrible. He wondered if Alfred acted out, had even bigger breakdowns than while at the dormitory, ate anything, made friends or enemies, ended up locked in somewhere else, attempted to hurt himself, got restrained... It was always a possible happening, and tortured Arthur the whole time.

What if Alfred regretted it? What if he desperately cried to go home?

But he didn't say any of that anymore. It was too late now, that was sure. He was there and he was obliged to stay for the entirety of May, if not a part of June as well (that depended on whether he would be able to take care of himself better by then or not).

"I'm proud of him, too", he said instead, looking down in embarrassment when he felt Adrienne softly take his hand as a form of comfort. "I can't wait to visit him tonight."

"Yeah, you'll tell us everything. Curse that fucking rule of one visitor at a time. I mean, what is this, a prison?" Matthew scoffed, wishing he could be the one seeing his brother, but he didn't complain, since Arthur was visibly shaken up by the situation, and didn't conceal his emotions very well unlike the other two.

"Safety reasons, since patients do get violent." Adrienne shrugged. "I don't think Alfred would be like that, though. He'll just cry his way out of there, won't he?"

And as soon as Arthur was going to reply, he opened his mouth to say something and got interrupted by a slam of the door to their room.

Liz and Gilbert stood at the entrance with wide smiles on their faces, running up to their friends and showering them with unexpected greetings. No one would even think that their flight would arrive to America that early, and that they would drive to New Haven in such a short amount of time.

"Guess who's back!" Gilbert grinned happily, and Elizabeta immediately hugged it out with Adrienne. The three needed to pretend they weren't in the middle of an important conversation, greeting their friends back with the same amount of enthusiasm.

"You guys didn't call us to say you're here! Jesus, I almost got a heart attack!" Matthew laughed, glad to see them back, but apprehensive about mentioning anything that happened in the past day and the past two weeks while everyone was absent except Arthur.

"And you two need to learn to lock your doors. I checked Alfred's and Arthur's room as well, totally empty and unlocked." Elizabeta warned, but with a teasing undertone to her words.

"As if anyone would want to steal our stuff. Once they see that mess, they run." Arthur commented from the side, almost too silently. Again, his fear of making a normal conversation struck, and he was close to losing his sense of speech. Socially anxious, as usual. He hated that about himself, but he already lost hope of changing it.

Elizabeta and Gilbert looked tired, yet still somehow radiated that endless energy and positivity. They had young, tireless minds, and could travel for years at a time if given the opportunity. "By the way, where's Alfred? We didn't even see him at his usual place in the park. You know, that bench underneath the oak tree where he sits and does art all the damn time." The Hungarian girl asked out of sheer curiosity, and the fact she missed her best friend and wanted to see him again after being separated for the entirety of spring break.

Shit. Everyone in the room thought of the same thing as they stopped in their track, glancing at each other in fear of what to say and how to say it. Bringing bad news was the worst part of this. And how the hell was it okay to just say 'oh, your best friend is psychotic and got admitted into the mental hospital yesterday, sorry for not telling you as soon as it happened'?

"Uh, he's..." Adrienne stumbled across her words, biting her lip and awkwardly chuckling when she realized she didn't know how to say it. "He's not really here right now."

"Thanks for the input, Sherlock." Gilbert rolled his eyes, squinting his eyes as he noticed that the atmosphere in the room suddenly got tense. "Seriously, is he alright?" He added on with a bit more concern.

"He's fine, don't worry." Matthew tried to brush it off, but Elizabeta sensed lies in his eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He defensively asked the girl who was staring at him with disbelief.

"You three are not telling us something. And Arthur's been pretty silent." She pursed her lips and tried to figure it out, but nothing came to mind.

"Arthur is always silent." The American retorted.

For a longer moment, everything went quiet once again, and things weren't as they were when the two first entered the room with a bang. Now, they silently demanded answers, and tension burdened their heavy chests. They kept glancing at each other, partially afraid to make any kind of eye contact, until Gilbert finally gained the courage to be the one who broke the lingering fear and silence.

"Well then? Will you tell us?" He crossed his arms and waited.

Adrienne caught Arthur's teary gaze, giving him a nod of confirmation as a way to encourage him to say something. One of the reasons was that the Brit spent the most time with Alfred in the two weeks, and the other was that she didn't want to be the one saying it.

The Englishman let out a long sigh, muttering an incoherent 'fine' before stepping up to bring them the bad news. "You see... Alfred is at the Yale New Haven Hospital." He said without an explanation, waiting to be obliterated with thousands of questions.

The two looked at him with puzzled expression on their faces. "...But isn't that a psychiatric ward? As far as I know." The German raised an eyebrow at the other's words.

"Yeah, it is." Arthur focused on giving mostly short responses.

"Why is Alfred at a psych ward?" Liz interrupted, her voice raising as if she was getting angry.  
Well, anger wasn't the right word. Irritation caused by worry would explain it better.

"Okay, we'll tell you everything."

Matthew stepped up once he noticed Arthur had no words left to say, and tried to explain Liz and Gilbert everything that happened in detail. Even the parts he heard from Arthur and wasn't present when they were actually happening.

From Alfred's first breakdown after the two left for Canada to his admission to the mental hospital yesterday afternoon - the things Alfred told them he heard and saw, absolutely everything. They told them how it hurt to see him suffer like that, and Matthew threw in his casual two cents by saying that it was the right choice to send him away. The earlier, the better, and a bigger chance of recovery. At least for some people. They hoped Alfred would be one of them.

Since they weren't present when Alfred got a clear diagnosis, they could only deduct it themselves, and share their theory with the couple in front of them.

Elizabeta and Gilbert were put in a whole another state of shock and disbelief. Staring wide eyed at the three people in front of them, glancing at Arthur, then Matthew, Adrienne and finally at each other, they needed more than a simple few moments to process the given information.

"My best friend... Is schizophrenic." The Hungarian girl looked down, muttering out the words and not being sure whether she was just having a really weird nightmare, or whether this was real life. "I don't get it, he was--"

"He was fine a few weeks ago." Gilbert finished her sentence, the same amount of awe visible on his face. "I don't know what to say, it sounds unreal."

Matthew nodded in understanding, frowning at the thought of how nice it would feel if this was all a huge nightmare, and soon he would wake up, have his younger brother right next to him. "Well, sadly, it's as real as it gets."

And then it was all stillness in the room again, only their rhythmic breathing could be heard filling the space, adding to the pressure and tension that was so thick one could feel it creeping up on their skin, making each of them slightly tremble, It was May, a sunny spring day, but a sense of cold found its way around them nonetheless, sending shivers down their spine.

Especially to Matthew.

Thoughts gathered in his mind, realizations that Alfred was the only piece of his lost family left, and he wasn't next to him anymore. Who knew when would be the next time they saw each other, not counting the visits he planned to give him every now and then.  
The Jones family simply wasn't born underneath a lucky star. Ever since the start, he recalled things being bad. Even when Alfred was a little kid and wasn't aware of his existence yet. Matthew did, being two years older than him. But they were minor things, just some fights here and there. He didn't understand what was the reason behind them, but they always managed to make him sadder each time it happened. And when Alfred started getting a sense of reality, they stopped fighting, started giving the boys all their attention. Matthew believed that things would be good from then and on. He didn't expect them to end up as orphans when they were only seven and nine, unable to fend themselves from the cruelty of this world. He didn't expect that they would give them a caretaker, and then rip her away from their lives as they both crossed the age of thirteen. Ever since early childhood, things were wrong. Then he got into college earlier than he should have, and Alfred followed a couple of years later. They were both intelligent, did well in high school despite their weaknesses and traumatizing past.  
College was the time when Matthew finally started hoping that their lives would be turned around for the better, and it was great for him ever since. But this was his last year, and not everything goes smoothly in the life of someone born unlucky. Something had to fuck them up, as usual.

Matthew just wished that it wasn't Alfred who had to suffer more. If he could, he would take all his pain and carry it to his grave, just so the younger didn't have to bear the burden on his heavy heart.

He didn't remember when exactly did it begin, but life started being all blurry and hazy somewhere halfway through. And it kept getting worse with each passing year. Perhaps repressing emotions didn't help either.

Someone had to be strong for everyone else, and he chose that role ever since he was nine, seeing his seven year old brother in the hospital, being told he had a near fatal injury. 

The universe wasn't fair, and he grew up too quickly. Childhood was supposed to be the time he got taken care of, yet he had to be the one giving emotional support and being the caretaker.  
For Alfred, it was different. He never really learned to grow up, only hid from reality behind paintings and sunshine smiles.

Oh, Matthew would give everything to turn back time, to warn their past selves and their parents about what would happen if they went on that travel.

Too bad time was so strict to them.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Afternoon had arrived quickly at the doorstep, and so did Alfred's first ever group therapy session. He was immensely scared, tried to make up excuses for why he couldn't go, but nothing worked. It was inevitable, he would simply have to face sitting in a room with other people who were like him, expressing how he felt and being taught to communicate once again.  
It seemed scary, so unreal - not so long ago, he would be the one helping other people to open up, he'd speak loudly about everything he was passionate about, and now he was stuck here as a social outcast, deranged, a lunatic, every horrible name one could think of. He knew that as soon as he got back to Yale (if he ever would), he would most certainly be showered with all those insults. Sure, those people were educated, but the taboo hasn't been broken yet. Psychosis is still a synonym of psychopathy to the world, and he had always hated that. Especially now, when he was the one who needed help.

"Alfred, are you ready? Therapy is in five minutes."

The American turned his head towards the familiar voice, finding out Emilia was standing at the door and waiting for him to follow her outside. She was picking up all of her patients from their rooms, two people Alfred had never seen before stood behind her quietly and dispassionately. He couldn't see the looks on their faces, but he sensed their sadness and fear, and it made him feel a tiny bit better to know he wasn't the only one who felt like that.

Despite that, he couldn't get off the bed. He had no mental energy for this whatsoever, and the bed seemed safer than wherever they were going to take them. "I don't want to go." He muttered, placing a hand over his forehead as a way of calming down the pulsing headache taking over him. He was still constantly surrounded by the demonic hallucinations, and the medication didn't make it any better - the only thing it did was tire him out even more than he already was.

Emilia sighed in exhaustion, knowing that this was most probably going to happen. "It's going to help you get better, okay? I know you're afraid, but everyone is the first time. Luckily, the fear goes away really soon." She convinced him into going, glancing at her other two patients behind her quickly. She was lucky they were peacefully waiting.

Hesitantly, Alfred shifted upwards on the bed, blinking a few times and rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. He had no idea whether to fight against it or just go with it, but the idea of getting better did sound pretty appealing. And the sooner he did it, the sooner it would be over, that was always a rule. "Okay." He whispered insecurely, standing up in a couple of shaky, disoriented looking movements. His eyes were scanning the entire room around him, and only now he noticed how dark it was.  
Sure, the lights were off, but the lamp from the hallway illuminated a good third of it. It was his mind that made it darker, covered by shadows and unrealistic looking figures in black outfits and scary voices. On a second, he could swear there was a flash of fire and extreme warmth in front of his eyes and on his face, and he almost fell onto the floor if it wasn't for Emilia who ran in and caught him by the arm before anything of the sort could happen. She noticed the distress in his eyes and body, his dilated pupils and short, rapid movements which indicated that he was nowhere near alright. Glad that he didn't put up much of a fight, Emilia lead him out of the room towards the other patients and locked his room door behind them.

After picking up two more people who didn't at all struggle accepting the fact that therapy was starting, they soon found themselves in a small room with bright white walls. Standing in the corner was a desk full of papers thrown of it, and it reminded Alfred of the ordination he got his medication in. Luckily, it wasn't the one. There were comfortable looking chairs lined up in an open circle. Even though it wasn't a children's hospital, the drawings and pictures on the walls reminded him of a pediatric unit or something similar. The room itself didn't look frightening, but it was fascinating how much can the atmosphere be changed only with the emotionless expressions of most patients. Each of them made their way towards a seat, but Alfred didn't know exactly what to do.

"Sit down wherever you want." Emilia advised him with a gentle smile on her face, softly placing a hand on his shoulder and quickly gaining attention of the other four people who already started talking amongst themselves a little. They were fairly quiet nonetheless, except of this one brunette boy who laughed a bit too loudly for everyone else. "Guys, this is Alfred, a new patient here. I want you all to be nice and accepting to him, though I know you will."

Usually, Alfred would have nothing against being in the center of attention, but now it made him extremely uncomfortable. He mumbled a near silent 'hi' as the others stared at him and greeted back, and sat down on the chair next to a girl with long, slightly wavy light brown hair. She turned to him and smiled, and he could only do the same. Only with more confusion, and less openness.  
He felt somewhat like a new student in class being introduced by the teacher.

"Oh, are we going to introduce ourselves to Alfred?" The loud boy spoke up before Emilia could get another word out, making her nod happily in approval. She was all for them communicating, even without her, since that meant they could function a lot better than they could the first time they were here.

Alfred noticed that the boy had an Italian accent, at least he hoped it wasn't his mind twisting the speech. Anything was possible at this point.

Soon, he learned that his name was Feliciano, and he came from Venice to study the Italian language and Literature here at Yale. He was only twenty one, and only found out about his diagnosis of bipolar and schizoaffective disorder a couple of months ago, even though he had been struggling with it since he was eighteen, going from mania to depression back and forth in what it seemed was a never ending cycle of emotional pain.

The girl who Alfred sat next introduced herself as Isabella Køhler, and he immediately thought of his past roommate Mathias who, in fact, had the same surname and kind of resembled her. He found out they were siblings, and when he was moving back to Denmark, she chose to rather stay here and help herself get back on her feet before she could even think about her family who was in dire need of assistance.

It was a small world.

Mathias had never mentioned having a schizophrenic sister. Perhaps he was ashamed of her, or didn't want people to think of them as a crazy family.  
Who knew that his roommate of all people would find himself shoulder to shoulder with her in the same situation.

The other two patients weren't as easy on the talking as Isabella and Feliciano, and neither was Alfred. They shyly introduced themselves with only their names and surnames, adding on nothing interesting about themselves. Toris and Raivis Laurinatis from Lithuania, they said, and the American couldn't repeat those until the fifth try at pronouncing them.

"How come almost everyone here is from a different country?" He asked Emilia, and she was happy to answer anyone's question.

"Well, we get to choose our patients, and I really wanted to make this an international group. Therapy can connect those who struggle with the same things, but it can also build bridges between nations. People can also learn that there are those like them all around the globe, and getting them together in one place really helps." She didn't only speak turned towards Alfred, but towards everybody, readily connecting with everyone to feel unity.

Therapy wasn't half as bad as Alfred expected it to be. Sure, he was anxious, and the voices he kept hearing insisted on reminding him of how useless and stupid he was, but he was able to share his experiences and hear others talk about their own.

He wasn't alone in this, and that helped him so much to know.

The Italian boy talked the most out of all of them, but Emilia always knew how to make him not go too far when he was on the edge of acting out on his mania. He told everyone about a strange experience in which he felt he was connected to god and other religious figures, but that it didn't affect him as much as it would the first time he got admitted here in the hospital. That gave Alfred hope as well. Maybe one day, his own encounters wouldn't give him such trauma.

Emilia helped Alfred and the Lithuanian brothers engage in conversation more, taught them how to express themselves properly, and warned the American whenever his speech was getting disorganized again. He was able to share some of the story about how he ended up here, but at times, he couldn't form sentences at all and his mind would go fully blank except of the voices. As if every other function in his brain would shut off besides the one giving him the delusions.

During the therapy session, there was a moment in which he nearly jumped out of his chair because of a flash of cold and a scream that distracted him from reality, and Emilia realized that she seriously needed to ask the psychologist for a change in medication or the dose. These Haldol shots weren't helping his case at all, and Alfred agreed as she said it.

He also learned that the antipsychotics they drugged him with should have had an influence on the dopamine receptors in his brain, and that it was completely normal for patients not to instantly feel a change. They needed to test out different types until finding the right help for each of them, since everyone's body reacted differently.  
He was just glad that he didn't have any side effects worse than exhaustion and headaches. Thank goodness for that.

As their session was over, Emilia lead each of her patients back to their rooms, even Alfred who was supposedly staying at the special care unit. She didn't want him to feel even more trapped than he already was, and was a hundred percent sure he wasn't going to get violent. And even if he did, she would know how to handle it better than those people who tied him up and treated him as less than a human being.

Alfred sat down at the desk in the corner rather than on the bed, telling her that he wanted to spend the rest of the evening in drawing, since Arthur couldn't visit him. Time had to pass by quicker, and this was the best way to do it.

"That's okay", she replied to him with a genuine smile. "I'll come notify you for dinner as soon as it's ready."

And with those words, she exited the room and locked the door behind herself, walking down the hallway to the psychiatrist's ordination in a hurry and realizing she really needed a rest and a few cups of coffee. Working with completely new, scared patients was always difficult until they finally adjusted themselves to the fact that they were in the mental hospital, and they had to deal with it in their own, non-violent way. Even though she liked Alfred, he seemed to be at his lowest point, and it was always the hardest part to get the patients back on their feet after their condition hit them like an earthquake.

It was a stressful job, yet she loved it anyway. Helping people and seeing the look on their faces when they finally announce they are feeling at least a little bit better... Nothing felt as good as that.

She entered the ordination without knocking, seeing the psychiatrist sitting at her desk and going through loads of paperwork. "Could you double the antipsychotic dose for Alfred Jones? It doesn't seem to help whatsoever."

"Sure thing." The lady answered in a calm tone and scribbling the name on a bright yellow post-it note, quickly averting her gaze to Emilia, who looked incredibly tired, more than usually. "You look restless." She added with care.

"I haven't slept last night, I stayed up with him." The psychologist replied casually.

"You aren't obliged to do such things, you know... You're probably the only one who does that. Actually, why did you do it?"

Emilia stopped in her tracks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion and looking around the room as if it was a way of seeking for the answer. "Huh...I dont't know." She muttered, going over possible reasons. She had done it in the past, but never as willingly as she did for Alfred. It was always because the patients were the ones who asked.

Alfred didn't ask, she was the one offering the extra assistance.

No, she couldn't be thinking like that. She liked Alfred, but only in a sympathetic way. After all, he was in a relationship with Arthur, that guy he talked about so much in one night to the point she thought she knew him personally. And she certainly wasn't the one to go for favouritism among her patients. They were all equals.

But Alfred just had that something, that spark of connection she hadn't felt with anyone else before.

"Get some sleep tonight, okay? You're totally out of it." The other snapped her out of thought momentarily.

"Yeah... I'm definitely out of it." Emilia blinked a few times, letting out a long exhale as she made her way out of the ordination with a short wave of goodbye to the overly caring psychiatrist.

As much as sleep sounded good, she knew that she'd stay with Alfred in a heartbeat if his symptoms worsened over the night, and wouldn't rethink the decision twice. She'd do it for anyone, but this was simply... Different.

If only she could explain it to herself, rationalize it...

Sometimes that was just impossible.


	20. Chapter Twenty

From simple lines, to sketches and to fully finished masterpieces, Alfred managed to spend half of his notebook that evening, his entire desk covered in paper, drawings, or doodles that were supposed to take his mind off the fact that he was stuck in a mental hospital, that he couldn't stop breaking down and hallucinating, and that his entire life shattered and crumbled down in front of his eyes, and it hadn't even been a month since his first real psychotic episode.

He was far too scared to go down to the hall and eat, mostly because Ivan would have most probably been there, so Emilia assisted and brought the tray of food to his room. She was more than happy to help him in all ways, but she was tired and confused and needed some rest, just as the psychiatrist had advised her.

"Emilia", Alfred whispered the name, since he knew too well he was allowed to call her that. "Please don't tell me you fell asleep." He sighed, yet couldn't help but smile as he saw the exhausted psychologist lean her head against her desk and close her eyes.

She mumbled something incoherently and shifted just slightly, staying like that until the realization hit her - this was a goddamn patient room, and she was the doctor! If someone saw her like this, they'd probably either blame Alfred and think he hurt her, or fire her for being unprofessional. And she loved this job, she couldn't let that happen. "I might have... Sorry." She muttered once she got up again, feeling embarrassed of herself for a long minute. Fixing her silver coloured hair and letting it freely fall over her shoulders, she glanced at Alfred who was still finishing up a drawing, and commented something about how beautiful his art was before approaching the door to leave.

"Wait!" He stopped her, and she turned around to face him once again.

"Do you want me to stay the night again...?"

Alfred looked down at the floor for a second, gathering his thoughts in one place so he could make a sentence that was actually understandable, and not gibberish like he sometimes had the tendency to speak. "No, I couldn't stand to force you to be awake just for me. But I would like to thank you."

Emilia blinked in surprise, this wasn't something she usually heard her patients say. Especially not those who were so out of it like Alfred was in his current state. "What for?" She asked confusedly.

"For helping me get through this mess I got myself in." He answered without hesitation.

At those words, she couldn't help but chuckle - inside, she was melting, but that was something she wouldn't dare to admit in a thousand years. "Alfred, it's not you who got you into this mess, it's... I don't know what it is, honestly. Scientifically, it's excess dopamine in the brain. But why it happened, I'm not so sure. The universe has strange plans for us." She placed her hand on the doorknob about to open it, but she realized that she didn't really want to go. "And you don't need to thank me for it. I'm the doctor, you're--" Stopping herself on time, she didn't want to finish that sentence. Many people here disliked the word patient being their label, and the last thing she wanted to do was make Alfred feel even more uncomfortable than he already was.

"I'm the patient, I know... It sounds strange to say it, but I'll have to adapt to it once." He shrugged carelessly, acting as if he didn't see or hear things around him. When actually, that wasn't true. Sure, the voices might have been a bit calmer than before, but the vision was the one taking over now. It was the extra medication he took with the food that made him spacey, calming the tension in his body and working as stress relief. He'd never felt this drugged and hazy in his life.

It helped, so it was okay.

"I'm so proud of you for having the audacity to say it. You know, most people here don't. It took Isabella a month to finally use the word to describe herself." Emilia smiled to him one more time, opening the door at last. "I'll see you in the morning, now at least try to get some sleep."

"The same goes to you", Alfred gently replied, turning back to the drawings on the desk as she left him alone in the heaviness of silence and the darkness of his own mind.

As soon as she was out of his sight, he lost that small spark of positivity and hope that lingered in the air the entire time she was there, and it didn't take him more than a couple of minutes to spiral down the pits of hell, more precisely the demonic whispers and the shadows that, for some reason, really wanted to get a hold on him and end his life. He felt them up his spine, on the back of his neck, and at a moment, he thought there was a crimson pool of blood all over his drawings. Until he blinked, and it was gone.

If that was last night, he'd be stuck in that vicious cycle of screaming, hysteria, crying, being calm again and so on. But today, he didn't have it in him to fight back. He could only let them take over him as he simply sat there waiting for whatever they had in plan next.

You will never escape, something whispered in his ear, but when he looked aside, no one was there.

Tonight, we spill blood.

If the first one wasn't scary enough, the second one got him jumping out of the chair and running to hide underneath the bed sheets, covering his head with a pillow and trembling in desperation. He didn't shout back or cry, it was just the paralyzing fear that tried to make him break down again.

You don't deserve this life.

"Yeah, I think so, too." Alfred whispered back, the words coming out muffled as his mouth was now covered with a woolen blanket.

Everything you do is wrong.

"You're not the first one to say that. If you're going to ruin my life, at least be original."

You will never succeed. You will never become an artist. People will never appreciate you.

In the back of his head, he heard an unintelligible string of voices that repeated some words like an echo, but most of the time he couldn't understand what they were saying at all. It was just a lot of muffled speech, like a crowd of people conversing, laughing and coughing, somewhat like television playing and creating a background noise... Those were the ones he had been hearing for months and was always able to ignore fairly well, at least for the most part. But the ones who started spitting out random insults at him wherever he went and whatever he did, those stuck with him since he fought with Matthew and since then never left his deranged psyche.

They made him curl up to his knees, his breath hitching in his throat as he tried his best not to burst into tears. He was always told that he was overly emotional, but it was no surprise, with everything he had to go through.

Never before had he wanted to disappear so badly.

All throughout childhood, he felt empty, ever since losing his parents. The emptiness was never going to be replaced by anyone or anything, and it would always stay there as a scar across his heart reminding him of the ones he lost.  
In highschool, things weren't better at all. As a matter of fact, that could have easily been the worst period of his life. He was always the social outcast, even if he acted happy and put on a mask to conceal all the negative emotions. The only problem was, he held back from his true self. Until senior year, when he decided to just let go of everything and start saying anything without any fear. And apparently, people liked when he spoke up, so he continued the same in college. It finally gave his life a meaning after he felt so worthless for such a long amount of time. He met some great friends, he was loved, he had an entire exhibition hall just for his artwork, and he thought that the universe finally decided to free him from the chains of endless torture.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

He first started hearing the voices in winter, and it was scary the first time. He told no one, and pushed them aside as if nothing ever happened.

Who would have known that it would lead him here, four months later, away from his friends, Arthur, and everything he loved?

If there used to be hope, now it was certainly gone.

With no return.

\- - -

As Alfred was being taken away by the darkest parts of his mind, Arthur dearly hoped he could come and visit him, see how he's doing and comfort him if anything bad had happened while they were separated. Alfred's brother Matthew wanted to come along, but in the end decided to stay since the two were most probably in need of a moment of privacy.

Too bad none of that mattered anyway.

The Brit arrived at the psychiatric care a bit before seven in the afternoon, opening the big, glass door with boiling tension inside and walking over to the counter at the reception.

"Hello, how can I help you?" A lady in a light blue uniform smiled at him in a friendly, but at the same time professional manner, noticing how scared he looked just by glancing at his shaky hands that held the edges of the countertop.

"Uh, I'm here to visit a patient. Alfred Jones, he's just been admitted yesterday--"

"I'm afraid I can't let you see him now."

Arthur was taken back at her quick interruption of his words, and concern washed over him immediately. Did something happen? What caused that reaction? In a matter of milliseconds, his mind came up with thousands of possibilities of what the situation could have been. Perhaps he was just overthinking, everything was going to be alright... No, there was no way he could convince himself that things were okay. Not when the lady's eyes showed a glint of sympathy, a sincere one at best. "Why am I not allowed to see Alfred?" He carefully asked.

"He's on the list of patients who ended up on special care, which means that he isn't allowed visits for twenty four hours after the incident happened. Which was at breakfast, so you can come see him tomorrow if you'd like. At seven, of course." She spoke calmly, glad that Arthur wasn't the type to start yelling at how it was impossible that the person they were visiting was violent or created an incident of any kind. And she has seen quite a few people who acted like that.

"May I ask... What happened?" Arthur bit his lip as he anticipated the answer. So Alfred did break down in front of people after all. He hoped that the American wouldn't fight or throw tantrums, that would make things easier for not only him, but Arthur as well with his non-stop anxiety, and everyone else around him. But he understood that what Alfred was going through was difficult to handle, and sometimes things like these were going to happen, whether he liked it or not.

"He tried to physically fight a patient who supposedly angered him."

I was afraid of something like that happening, Arthur thought to himself, letting out a deep breath. But Matthew just wouldn't listen. This was a bad idea, sending him here was a horrible idea, and yet we let it happen in the blink of an eye.

"Alright." He said, trying to remain reserved, even though he felt incredibly anxious. It didn't help that he had to talk to an actual person, a stranger at a reception - one of his biggest weaknesses. "Thank you for informing me. I'll come visit him tomorrow in the evening, then."

The receptionist nodded, taking out one of the papers from the pile that stood on top of a few large books next to her computer. "Just tell me your name and your relation with the patient, so you don't have to repeat the same tomorrow."

"Arthur Kirkland. I'm his, uh... Partner." He stuttered out the last word just barely, purposefully saying it in a quieter tone. He was always uncomfortable with his sexuality, especially in social situations in which he had to confess in either subtle or straightforward ways.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow before simply looking down to the paper and writing down the newly given information. "Right, I got it all down." A click of a pen could be heard, and then she looked back up at Arthur. "Have a nice day, then, and see you tomorrow."

He felt like he was being judged by her, even though he tried to rationalize it as something else or just tried to pretend he didn't care about what a stranger thought of him. It wasn't working, though. He left the institution with a mutter of 'goodbye', looking down at the floor and thinking about how to look her in the eyes the next time he saw her. Which was going to be in twenty for hours from now.

But that wasn't even his biggest worry. It was Alfred.

Who was the patient who made him angry, and what the hell did he do to him to make him lash out like that?

Perhaps there was a backstory behind it all, and they didn't believe Alfred his side of the story because of his natural delusions.

Worse than that, what if it was Alfred's fault?

He just hoped that the next time they saw each other, it would be peaceful and no one was going to get hurt.

Goddammit, universe.

Just as I thought life in America would be bright and peaceful, you turn everyone's fate upside down, including mine.

Not even the devil possesses such evil.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Two weeks later

It was a stormy fourteen days of visits, surprises, group therapy, meeting new people, getting frustrated, trying out new forms of medication, crying, hoping it would all be over, laughing, and so the cycle repeated it. A strange routine, for one who doesn't understand the lengthy, painful story behind it.

But for those who do, they know from a simple glance.

Alfred and Emilia got along greatly, and she spent most of her work time around him, helping him in every way that she could, with everything that was in her power. She provided him the needed affection, validation, did constant reality checks when he was struggling to understand what was actually there, taught him how to understand that line between hallucination and real world - even though it was really difficult - and of course, helped him form proper sentences so he wouldn't go and speak completely disorganized.  
He asked her many times about her other patients, and why she didn't give them as much attention. The fact was, they had been there for a long time, already earned some rights, she knew how they reacted to things and how their moods changed according to medication. But Alfred was still new here. She did the same for each of them before him...

Still, a part of her kept telling her this was different.

"Hey, have I ever told you that Arthur is studying to a be a psychologist, too?"

Alfred was sitting on his utterly uncomfortable bed in the hospital room, legs dangling off it as he waited for Emilia to give him a shot of antipsychotics, a different type of medicine once again. Usually, it's not the psychologists who give or prescribe medications, but she was specialized in both areas, and even though it wasn't her main role in the hospital, sometimes it would be so crowded and they needed extra help from anyone that could deliver it well. Though she was a bit anxious, since this was the first time doing it in a while.

"You've mentioned it a couple of times, yeah." She patiently responded with a smile, taking the light, pale yellow box of aripiprazole injections in her hand. Taking out the shot, she noticed how his eyes showed a bit of fear, nothing unusual, but she still felt like she had to reassure him. "It's only going to hurt on a split second, but this should make you feel better."

"If it's going to stop the goddamn creatures this time, I really don't care how much it hurts." He laughed at himself, but it wasn't the happy-go-lucky kind of laughter he always showed to people. It was more one of desperation. "God, I'm still not used to being in this situation. It feels unreal."

As if anything felt real at that point, anyway.

Emilia understood completely. Sometimes, they never got adjusted to being here, having a diagnosis, getting help... She had patients like that in the past. No matter what she did, they would always try and run back to the free world, despite the fact that they were being treated fairly well. "That's perfectly fine, Alfred. You've only been here for two weeks, just take your time." Lifting up the sleeve on his white t-shirt, she rubbed the sensitive skin with disinfection alcohol and tried her best not to do this with shaky hands. 

Luckily, she did it right, and only noticed Alfred's body tense up for a slight second, before he let out a shaky breath and looked down at the floor instead of having to see what she was doing.

"There, you're all done." She muttered a 'thank goodness' underneath her breath as Alfred didn't show signs of the injection hurting too badly. "With this medication, you're only going to take it each week. And if things stabilize, every three weeks. As you get to the point of being able to take care of yourself better, you will just have to come here every four weeks to take your shot and continue your everyday life as you'd usually do. But for now, let's see if this will do you any good."

"It has to help me this time! I'm seriously sick of being so out of it and going insane. I mean, I've been hallucinating for the past month, there's got to be an end to that one day or the other."

Emilia just nodded. She didn't have the heart to tell him that there was always a chance that he wasn't going to stop seeing and hearing those things all the time - perhaps his case was high-functioning, just like with Ivan, the young Russian who had been here for quite some time, but no meds helped him a single bit. "You need to rest now." She said instead of commenting on his last statement.

"What? But it's only the morning!" Alfred protested weakly, but his voice was more sad than angry. It was because he was never able to sleep properly, and he hated when Emilia wasn't with him in the room, when it was only him and the suffocating silence which spiraled into delusions and voices every time. For the past few days, he had been seeing this weirdly shaped creature who kept revisiting him in his sleep. It spoke gibberish, but its voice was demonic and scared him to death. And the fact that it laughed demonically as well didn't help.

"It's nine in the afternoon." The young psychologist answered, making him blink in confusion a couple of times.

"Huh." Alfred pursed his lips, hating how he lost track of time. "I was sure I just had breakfast."

"You didn't have breakfast this morning anyway."

Everything he thought was happening, every time he was lost in time in space, she'd patiently explain to him and tell him what was actually true. It helped him as an orientation, but sometimes he was just too out of it to know whether he just woke up or had been awake for twelve hours. Many times, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not.

"Then why do I feel like I did?" He asked with a hint of sadness in his voice. "It's so tiring to know that most of the things I experience and feel aren't even real."

"But it's good that you're aware of it not being the true form of reality." Emilia hoped to encourage him with the words, placing a hand on his shoulder and coaxing him to lie down on the bed. Which he did, once he realized what her intentions were. "Now try get at least a couple of hours of sleep, if nothing. I should do the same."

He sighed in frustration, but obeyed nonetheless. "Fine." A soft mumble escaped him, and he would have crossed his arms if there wasn't for the pain in his arm because of the injection he received. Even though it didn't hurt as he got it, his muscles stiffened a couple of minutes after, which made it impossible to move for half an hour mostly.

Emilia got up from the chair she sat on, and put it back where it belonged, by the desk that Alfred always drew on. "I'll come see you in the morning." She said softly, exiting the room in a couple of gentle movements and locking the door behind her.

She was utterly confused.

Leaning her back against the now locked door of Alfred's patient room, she took a deep breath as to gather her thoughts. "I'm the one delusional now." She whispered to herself, a reminder that whatever she was feeling was probably temporary and unreal in the first place.

With slight hesitation to leave, she checked on the rest of her patients - the Lithuanian brothers were quite alright, Feliciano tried his best to keep his spirits up while in a depressive state, but they didn't ask for much assistance. She just had to stay a bit longer with Isabella as she had a bit of a breakdown about something she heard was happening with her family. Phone calls were allowed for each patient to use once a day, but most didn't even bother, since their family and friends either lived close, or went to Yale University. The Danish girl, on the other side, was scared and alone, especially since her brother Mathias had to move back to Copenhagen. Every day, she called him and asked for everything that was going on with their troubled parents.

"... And I can't believe something so silly could cause me to hallucinate things again..." As Isabella was finishing her story, Emilia tried her best to comfort her in ways she knew helped. The girl took deep breaths just as the psychologist coached her through it, but Emilia's mind was somewhere else. Not in this room, that was for sure.

After all, she was only human. Psychologists could get distracted, too. Even the most mentally stable person has moments of confusion and emotional exhaustion. And she was always on the emotional side in the first place.

She just really hated feeling strange and perplexed.

Fortunately, it only took twenty minutes with Isabella before finally leaving and getting a chance to tame her thoughts going wild and put them all back in drawers they belonged in. She had always used the technique of storing emotions and thoughts into drawers of her mind, and it showed to be efficient and useful each time. Her patients knew it as well.

Exiting the room and hurrying down the hallway, she felt her eyes avert her gaze to Alfred's room door, number 72, just as she walked by them. Her breath stopped for a second, and she had to concentrate well to hold back tears. "I'm not supposed to be feeling like this." Another whisper, almost inaudible.

She knocked on the door of the psychiatrist's ordination just as a part of her daily routine - telling her if there were any changes in behavior, if the patients are dissatisfied with the treatment, all those things... Besides that, she liked talking to the lady.

"Lovisa, I need to talk to you about something really serious." She blurted out as she stepped into the room, immediately regretting saying anything.

I could have just kept it to myself, goddammit!

"Whoa, whoa, you never address me by my name. Also, you look exhausted as fuck, pardon my unprofessional language." The Norwegian psychiatrist got up from her desk, wide eyed at her tone of voice, approaching the distressed girl. "Did something happen? Did one of the patients hurt you?"

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that..." Emilia shook her head, hoping she could take back her words and just continue with work as she would usually do. "I'm just-- ah, I can't even say it. It's stupid, I'm stupid..."

"You're not stupid, Emilia. Now take a deep breath and tell me what's going on." Lovisa sympathetically placed a hand on her shoulder, instinctively fixing up the collar on the other's dark blue work uniform.

"I think I might have feelings for a patient." The younger said it as quickly as possible, just to get it out, it didn't even have to be coherent for all she cared.

The psychiatrist blinked a few times, raising her eyebrow suspiciously before she burst into laughter, making Emilia even more confused than she already was. "It's that Alfred Jones guy, isn't it?" She said as the laughing slowly subsided.

"What? How on earth do you know that?!"

"You're not the only one who reads people well, you know." Lovisa chuckled, rolling her eyes at her friend.

"This is serious! I feel like I'm out of my mind, for goodness' sake!" The Icelandic girl ran her fingers through her long, silver hair, ruffling it up before letting it fall over her shoulders. She crossed her arms and frowned, gaze averted to the floor instead of keeping eye contact with Lovisa.

"Alright, alright", the psychiatrist sighed. "Listen, I know it's heartbreaking, but you can't get involved with a patient, none of us can. It's against the law, and you could even lose your job. And I know how much you love working here."

Emilia could have sworn she saw a hint of sadness and disappointment on the other's face, and that made her feel even more distressed than before. "I know." She said, embarrassed for feeling like that. "I wasn't actually planning on acting on my feelings, I just want them to disappear. Maybe I belong in one of those patient rooms, too."

"We're all human, even if the laws say that doctors should stay fully professional, sometimes we can't stop our heart from skipping a beat when we a see that person smile, or look at us. It's just important to have self control and rationalize our feelings. As difficult as it gets, I'm here for you." Lovisa said softly, showing how understanding she truly was of the situation.

It really was difficult for her as well, to know that Emilia had feelings for somebody, though she'd never admit that even to herself.

"Thank you." Emilia smiled a bit, her cheeks painted a dusty pink as she stared at the floor and wondered what she deserved to have such a great friend as Lovisa, and why the universe was playing with her feelings like that.

"Can I just ask... Why exactly do you have feelings for him?"

Well, that was quite a difficult question to answer. There were more than a few reasons, but Emilia needed a moment to even think of one. She just knew she liked him. Once her thoughts finally gathered, she knew how to answer it, and she had rarely spoken with such much passion in her voice. "Uh... I just love the way he talks. When it makes sense, and when it doesn't. I love how he's trying his hardest to stay strong despite what he's going through, I admire his desire for freedom and his emotional soul." She spoke softly, each word making her smile a little bit more. "He's a true artist, his works are astonishing. And I love to see him smile, when he has the strength for a little bit of happiness. I know it's weird, a lot of people wouldn't even think of falling in love with a psychotic person, but he's so much more than those hallucinations. He's a life of his own. A beautiful one, at that point. I would let him cry it all out again and again, and I'd be there for him each and every time. I want to be the one to always pick him up from the ground when he falls."

Lovisa was awestruck.

She had never heard such words come out of the other, and they had worked together for quite some time now. It was obvious how much she cared for Alfred, but the fact that they weren't able to be together and that Alfred didn't feel the same about her was so heartwrenching. "Wow... You really do like him. A lot."

"God, I'm so sick, I hate it," Emilia placed the palms of her hands over her face, wiping off a few tears that managed to escape without her consent. "Please, don't tell anyone about this."

"Trust me, I wasn't planning to. Now, take your mind off work, let's get ourselves something from the cafeteria and go home. Thank goodness we don't work night shifts." The other tried to lighten up the mood, bringing the two of them closer and hugging her gently as a way of comforting her.

"Right, good point... Can we watch a movie at my place or something? I don't want to be alone tonight." Emilia asked, discretely admitting that she couldn't stand being by herself and her boiling feelings.

"Sure thing." Lovisa agreed without hesitation.

Feelings are far too complex to be easily understood. Emilia knew that ever since she was young. She felt everything so intensely, making her always stand on slightly unstable ground. That's why she always knew she wanted to become a psychologist and help people who had even more complicated troubles with their own minds and emotions. Empathy was her strong side, she lived in a world of feelings and ideas. Before she got the job at the hospital, which was always her dream, she was a writer. Now, writing was her hobby.

People had always told her that it was strange that she wanted to work with mental patients. But it was just something she loved, and had the luck to pursue in the country of her dreams.

Since she came to America, she rarely felt sad at all. She had a rather great number of friends, finished college, focused on work and helping people, and for the first time, she felt completely stable. Using her emotional self for other people, not locking it deep inside herself until it wore her out and make her cry as it used to through her teenage years.

The last thing she expected was that she would fall in love with a patient, with a dusty blonde, bright-blue eyed American boy, who just happened to be in a relationship with a Brit he kept talking about over and over again.

Feelings were complex, but luckily she had someone by her side to help her figure them out when she needed it the most.

That's what she wanted to be for Alfred.

A guide through the darkness.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

An apartment set on the fifth floor of a tall, white building in the neighbourhood of Yale University. The door was Victorian style, light brown wood with a golden nameplate on it with Steilsson nicely engraved into it. Emilia and Lovisa quickly arrived at the Icelander's home, entering it almost silently since the rest of the building was asleep, and they didn't want to bother anyone with door slams and loud laughter.

Emilia could barely wait to get out of her work uniform, which just showed how tired she was. She placed the dark blue outfit on a hanger in the hallway and changed into her casual grey t-shirt with a random inspirational quote on it (this time, it was 'don't stop dreaming') and a skirt in the same colour. Putting on her sky blue slippers, she walked into the kitchen to make them a cup of tea - usually, they would both drink coffee together, but now it was too late for caffeine - and sat on the couch, inviting Lovisa to do the same. The Norwegian already knew she was allowed to take whatever she wanted out of Emilia's closet, since they were keen on sharing clothing with each other. She chose a long, dark blue hoodie and black, cotton pyjama pants, joining Emilia in the living room.

Turning on her flat screen television which always played those 24 hour streams of indie music on the music channel, since news were depressing and she didn't want to watch them, Emilia took a sip of tea from an aesthetic looking mug and made herself comfortable next to the Norwegian. They needed this, since they didn't spend time together like this in a long while. It was usually just work relations, they rarely had a moment to take for themselves and a couple of kind words. The music was left as a calming background noise, but the sound was still turned down so it wouldn't disturb the sleeping neighbours who lived across the hall, especially because they had small children who went to bed early. Watching a movie was an idea they easily dropped. Neither of them had the patience or an attention span long enough to concentrate on an actual plot.

"You know, in all honesty, I'm not even surprised that you fell in love with a patient of yours. Maybe I even expected it to happen one day." Lovisa was the one to spark up a conversation, glancing at her friend as she tried to find a sitting position comfortable enough. In the end, she just crossed her legs and put a small pillow behind her head, as simple as it could get. Emilia, on the other side, leaned her head against Lovisa's shoulder, cuddling up to her friend in need of comfort and affection, which made the other lightly blush. Luckily, they didn't have the bright lights on, only a small lamp on the coffee table next to the couch, so the dusty shade of pink gracing her usually pale cheeks wasn't very visible.

"How could you expect that?" Emilia wondered, closing her eyes on a moment and getting lost in the background music as well as the warmth that radiated from her Norwegian friend. Her eyes were a bit red from crying she couldn't refrain from earlier, and she wiped a few tears away before completely relaxing.

"You're a hopeless romantic who wants to save everyone, there's no surprise in you falling for someone who needs your help, someone kindhearted and artistic like you said Alfred is... You want it desperately to be a love story, I can sense it already." The other answered patiently, the tone of her voice slightly drowsy since they were both equally tired, maybe Emilia a bit more from the extra emotions adding onto the exhaustion.

Emilia let out a deep breath, mumbling something incomprehensible before almost falling asleep on the other. Realization hit her soon enough, though, and she sat up to rub the drowsiness out of her eyes, ruffling through her gorgeous silver hair, fixing it so it wouldn't bother her sight. "I hate to say it, but you have a good point..." She muttered. "But I just have to forget about it because it can't happen. That's it."

"Well, Alfred's getting discharged by the end of May, isn't that right? Then he won't be your patient anymore."

"He's in a relationship, Lovisa. And he's obviously happy in it by how he talks about that Arthur guy all the time. For all I know, he might not be into girls at all." The Icelandic girl rolled her eyes, hopeless about the situation.

"Oh..." Lovisa had no more words to say, so she just softly embraced her friend into a hug and let her cry out everything if she needed to. Sometimes, those who tried to stay emotionally strong for others just broke down right there, and needed a shoulder to cry on instead of silently sobbing into a pillow. And it was just as the Norwegian predicted it - Emilia started crying once again, hating how emotional she was, hating how she just had to fall in love.

"What the hell is wrong with me?!" The younger wept, trying to make it silent as possible. Truth be told, it wasn't quiet at all. "I thought I could take my mind off him, but ever since I first saw him, he just had that mysterious something in him, and I just... I couldn't just ignore it. My heart overruled my head.

"Nothing is wrong with you, don't ask such things. You know very well that falling in love is an unexpected thing that can happen anytime, anywhere, with anyone, even if you tell yourself that you will not fall for anyone. It just... Happens. Like a heat flash. An emotional connection forms, with some people quicker, with some it takes a long time. Some people feel it immediately when they look into someone's eyes. Unfortunately," Lovisa stopped herself on a moment, biting her lip and looking at the floor with a glint of sadness in her ocean blue eyes, "it isn't always requited. Sometimes, it never is, and it's so difficult to move on. You tell yourself that your heart just won't start racing when you see that person, and when you're away from them, you convince yourself that you're not in love with them anymore. Then you see them again and all those previous feelings overtake you like a flood, and you realize it's not as easy as you think. But that doesn't mean you'll feel like this forever."

Emilia listened carefully, clinging onto each word and tightly hugging the other, hoping that she stops crying soon enough. She hated shedding tears in front of people, it was simply never her thing, made her feel weak and useless. But at times, it was impossible to hold back.

"You believe in soulmates, don't you?" Lovisa continued, and Emilia just made a noise of positively answering. "Well, then you know that one day, you will find your soulmate and it will be a connection stronger than you've ever felt. Perhaps not immediately, but soon you will realize that it was them all along, not the person you initially fell for. Who knows, maybe that's how Alfred feels for Arthur."

"What if I already met my soulmate, but I don't know it yet?" Emilia pulled away from the hug, asking the question with a hint of hopelessness and sincerity in her voice. She really wanted someone who would love her back with the same strength as she had to love. Oh, if only it was Alfred. But at the same time, she didn't even want to think about breaking Alfred and Arthur apart. It went fully against her morals, she couldn't do that to the poor American who already suffered enough.

She thought of the lyric 'If you love me, let me go' and thought how she could use it in real life if her feelings for the boy got any stronger in the future while he was still at the hospital.

"You will find out with time." Lovisa smiled gently, trying her hardest not to cry as well. She wasn't the most emotional being, but sometimes it struck her as well. "Patience, darling. Only patience."

She had a point, a good one at that note. Patience was vital in such a situation. Emilia had to have patience for the feelings to go away, and for her soulmate to come along the way.

"You're right..." She pursed her lips on a moment, her thoughts mixing with the gentle background melodies. "Thank you so much, I really needed to hear that. I get carried away at times, I know..."

Lovisa didn't have the heart to tell her that she felt the same for Emilia as she did for Alfred. On a second, she felt just like she explained to her friend. Since the two didn't get time together like this very often, sometimes it would feel like they were drifting away, and the Norwegian was so very close to forgetting that she had feelings for her coworker. But now when Emilia had her head leaned against her shoulder again, when she intertwined their fingers together and hummed along with the melody that played from the television to calm herself and her emotions, Lovisa couldn't help but feel that wave of love washing over her again.

She loved everything about Emilia.

It hurt to know that she loved someone else, that she would never love another girl.  
Silently, and without her even knowing at first, a salty tear made its way down her left cheek, and she wiped it off before Emilia noticed. But her voice was obviously shaky once she started speaking again.

"It's okay, I'll always be here for you." She said to the silver haired girl, her lips trembling, it was obvious she tried her best not to break down. After all, someone had to be the one staying strong for the other person. And at the moment, it was her.

For Emilia, she thought to herself. You're staying strong for Emilia.

Oh, if only it was that simple.

"Lovisa, you okay? You sound like you're about to cry." The Icelander sniffled a bit before sitting up straight and looking at her friend with concern.

Lovisa was really crying in silence.

"I'm sorry", the Norwegian muttered, looking to the side, far too embarrassed to make eye contact with the girl in the grey t-shirt. "I can't help it."

"It's okay, tell me what's bothering you..." Emilia's protective psychologist soul was instantly alerted, and she could have sworn that none of her own worries mattered at the moment, the only important thing was the fact that her closest friend was crying, and she needed to know why, had to comfort her.

"I can't tell you, that's the problem!" Voice cracking mid-sentence, Lovisa hid her face behind her hands and the long sleeves of the dark blue hoodie she wore. Her body was lightly shaking, and Emilia sympathetically placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You know you can tell me anything."

With those words, it was simply too much for Lovisa to handle. She wasn't the best at controlling her emotions, unlike Emilia who only cried out when she was at her worst, since with time, she learned to be introspective, but not to the point of locking herself away from not only others, but herself. On the other hand, Lovisa felt detached and empty every time she cried, but at the same time felt it all intensely, everything she kept in for such long amounts of time.

She let it all out, curling up on the couch and hugging her knees with her arms, sobbing into the fabric of the dark pyjama pants. Well, that was the last thing she expected would happen today. With each tear escaping her, she felt herself turn small in her mind - small, vulnerable, something she didn't often feel.

Emilia knew better than to pry with questions while the other was in this state. She had to wait the crying out, whisper some words of comfort and encouragement that everything would be okay, even though she didn't know why exactly she was crying.

Once she calmed down a little bit, her heart still racing and her breathing still shallow, then the psychologist decided to ask.

"Are you ready to tell me now?" Soft words escaped her lips, and went straight to Lovisa's heart.

"Emilia", the Norwegian said in a hoarse, serious tone, making eye contact with the girl who had the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen. When she looked closely under a specific light, they were violet.

"Yes? I'm listening."

"I am so in love with you."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

"I'm sorry, but I can't plan a wedding when my brother is in the fucking psych ward! That's just going to cause me more stress than I already have on me! It's not enough that finals are coming up, we're finishing college, that means I won't be close to him anymore when he comes back, it's just not the time to plan a wedding... It would get too much for me, Adrienne."

"So you're okay with waiting years? And what if he never comes back from there because he's in a state far too bad to take care of himself?"

"You're being uncaring and selfish right now."

"I cannot always be a people pleaser!"

Their third fight in the past week. Everyone was going through a pretty rough patch, and so were Matthew and Adrienne. They couldn't always be the ones holding up everyone's world. Even though the American swore to himself that he would be the one to take care of Alfred, his family and friends, sometimes it got difficult to breathe underneath the weight of the world. He hoped that he would have Adrienne to help him handle it, but she didn't know how to react properly from the shock of everything happening. She wanted to get married, to start a family, but Matthew wasn't completely ready for it because of Alfred's current state. As long as his younger brother was at psychiatric care, he didn't plan on doing anything besides visiting him two times a week, giving him moral support through this, and along with that, preparing for his final exams and writing essay works he'd soon need to give in. June was going to be here in two weeks, their education would end in a month, and stress overtook him completely.

Arthur drifted apart from them since the tension started building up. He couldn't handle it, and he didn't feel like he fit in with them in the first place. But he didn't isolate, either. With each day, he was closer to Emma's friend group more than he was with theirs. The exceptions were Liz and Gilbert, who were there to offer everyone moral support. It also bothered them greatly how the newly engaged couple fought, but they couldn't meddle in their personal problems. Instead, they just tried to bring peace to everybody around them.

"I think we need to be away from each other for some time." Matthew sighed, realizing at what point they brought themselves in such a short amount of time, and it was all because of stress. The human mind always managed to confuse him.

"Fine, I'll just go visit Alfred by myself tonight. That's what I wanted in the first place." Adrienne grabbed her cup of coffee from the desk in the corner of their room, storming out of it and slamming the door behind herself, leaving an angry, perplexed and lost Matthew standing alone in the middle of the space, his eyes tired and his hair a mess. He could feel his heart beating recklessly, making his chest hurt and breath hitch in his throat. Fighting with Adrienne was the worst feeling in the entire universe. Making her mad. He absolutely hated it. In the past four years, they hadn't had many fights, but each one left a scar across his heart that he wasn't able to easily forget.

For a second, he wanted to blame Alfred for everything that was happening, but the next moment he already felt guilty for even thinking about such a thing.

It's always Alfred, he thought to himself. I've always been the one taking care of him. I've always been the one to lift him up when he was down on the ground. That's a lot of always. But that's just how it is. And what do I get in return? He just makes more problems, makes all of us stressed out.

I know it isn't his fault, but I just can't help to think it is. He couldn't have prevented being psychotic, it simply happened. It's not his fault, it's not...

But it is.

Because now he's getting help, he doesn't have to hold anyone's world up, and I'm stuck here by myself. When I next visit him, he's going to rant about how he wants to go home, how he misses painting, how he wants to see Arthur, and I'm going to comfort him, hug him, tell him that everything's going to be okay.

But it won't.

Nothing is ever okay.

I used to believe in balance, how many bad things in a row bring good things after, yet when I look at my life, there was never a balance. It was all one big mistake. And I know Alfred feels the same.

So was the Jones family just always meant to suffer?

With that thought stuck on his mind, he tiredly flopped down onto his bed, face down to hysterically breathe into the pillow. He was tossing and turning all around, blankets ending up on the floor - something he usually hated, that was so unhygienic. Now, he didn't care at all. He just wanted Adrienne by his side, and wished that he didn't say anything that upset her.

Why was it so difficult for the universe to make things right?

\- -

Between Emilia and Lovisa, things started being incredibly awkward since the Norwegian confessed her long lasting love for the other. When the two got to work that morning, they could barely make eye contact with each other. They simply exchanged paperwork, patient documentation, boxes of medication and hardly even greeted each other a good day.

Emilia felt guilty that she just couldn't return her feelings, even though she knew it was perfectly normal. She didn't like girls romantically, and Lovisa did. It was both natural, yet things still got awkward nonetheless.

Right now, the Icelander was notifying her patients that it was breakfast time - more specifically, she only picked up the Lithuanian brothers and Alfred, since Isabella and Feliciano earned their rights to leave the room on their own through time once they stopped having more frequent breakdowns, got adjusted to medication and affirmed they weren't dangerous in anyway.

The American didn't have much of a problem with getting out of bed, he didn't sleep anyway in the first place. It was another one of those incredibly rough nights when he had to hide, could barely breathe and felt like he was cornered by the creatures in his mind. A new delusion was formed - he started believing that someone else was putting thoughts in his head, and he didn't know who it was. That made him even more paranoid when he got down to the hall to eat.

Wearing a frightened expression on his face, he took the trey with food from a lovely cafeteria worker and sat down at the table which was farthest away from where Ivan was sitting. The food wasn't half bad - some hot chocolate and a muffin. Sometimes they had toast with cheese, he liked that one much more. It was also his favourite kind of toast.

He ate the meal in a couple of bites, downing it with the drink and hoping that he could get out of here as soon as possible. The boiling fear in his stomach made him nauseous, and he felt like throwing up on the spot. Luckily, he didn't. He still had some control, and as weak as it was, it mattered.

Looking towards the table at which Ivan was sitting when they first got here, he noticed that he wasn't there anymore. Instead, he was saying something to Isabella with a disturbing smile on his face, making the girl obviously uncomfortable. Alfred observed them for a couple of moments, waiting to see what was going to happen next. If he had to meddle in to help someone in need despite the risk of getting taken away, he would. Especially since he got closer to Isabella through group therapy in the past weeks.

Ivan sat on the chair next to her, and she tried her best to move away as far as she could. She tried pushing him away, but he played the innocent game. Just as he did to Alfred, the American caught on.

But when she got up because he came a little bit to close to her, that's what made Alfred angry. How dare he treat her like that! His instincts told him to save her, but his paranoia told him to stay back instead of getting hurt.

The intuition overweighed the fear after all, and he jumped out of his seat to run towards the two on the other side of the room. He didn't give the slightest damn that he raised looks from almost every other patient sitting by the table. He couldn't care at all about the doctors and nurses that were able to see him from the other side. The only thing that mattered was stopping Ivan from whatever evil thing he wanted to do now. Alfred didn't see him as a mental patient, he saw him as a bad person. After all, they were both psychotic, but Alfred didn't listen to the voices when they told him to hurt people. And there were a lot of those at times.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He shouted at the Russian, instantly pushing him away from Isabella as she stared wide eyed at both Ivan and the American simultaneously.

Ivan only scoffed, the push not harming him much. Crossed his arms, he glared at Alfred and waited for the other to come back to his senses before he got hurt as well.

"He was telling me that he's in control of me, a-and I got scared--", the Danish girl was nearly shaking, but her voice was certainly trembling.

Alfred glared back at the tall Russian, and for a longer moment, the two just stood there, each of them waiting for the other to make the first move. "I can't believe you're still on that higher power shit. You should be the one on special care, Ivan. I've never hurt anyone, and you have. You still are."

"You hurt people by simply existing, Jones." Ivan retorted, making Alfred awestruck. Lately, he had been extremely sensitive to any kind of criticism and hurtful word, mostly because he heard all of them in his mind at every single hour of the day. It got tiring. He didn't need any more of it from psychotic Russians.

But he wasn't going to give Ivan the satisfaction that it hurt. In fact, he wanted to fight back. Suddenly, he felt adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he could swear he could fight anyone in this world. Even the person putting all those deranged thoughts in his head, whoever they were.

Instead of fighting back with words, he straight up went physical, feeling like all the energy in this world at this moment belonged to him, with a goal to defeat the Russian.

It didn't help that the voices were coaxing him into it. Usually, he wouldn't listen, but the delusion mixed with the hallucination, and the only thing left for him to do was listen.

Just like last time, Ivan was the one who managed to erase all self control from him with just one, icy glare.

Do it! Do it, fight him! Hurt him, hit him, just do it!

Don't be fucking weak. Go for it!

Hurt him.

You know you want to.

So he did.

One hit landed straight onto the Russian's shoulder, and Isabella stared in shock. She didn't think they would start a fight. She didn't think Alfred would be the one starting it.

"You think that hurt? I'll show you what real pain is." Ivan's facial expression turned from angry and confident to furious and narcissistic, basically just a stronger shade of what it was at the start.

Alfred instantly regretted his choice, but now was too late to back out and retreat. And he wasn't the one to give up and cowardly run off.

If only there was someone in this world who would willingly get him out of this mess. Someone who wanted to be there for him, to snap him out of fiction and ground him back to reality when he needed it the most.

If only there was someone.

Luckily, there was. And her name was Emilia Steilsson.

As a rough impact from Ivan met the right side of Alfred's face, bruising him and making him nearly cry out in pain, he swore out loud and soon everyone was looking at the two, including the psychologists. He tried the same, but it didn't have as much effect on the other as it had on the American. After all, the Russian was much stronger.

Alfred would have fought back again. A part of him still wanted to return the blow with just as much force.

Suddenly, there was a gentle touch around his left arm, and it startled him at first, the fact he didn't know who it was. Then he heard a whisper. A whisper different than the voices mumbling in the back of his head, a voice clearer than those telling him to hurt the other.

"Don't do it", the voice tenderly said, but it was demanding at the same time. "You know better than this."

He turned around to meet Emilia's soft gaze, and for a moment, he just stood there like he was paralyzed. Completely detached. He hadn't had a single clue about what to do.

Ivan was right there, smirking with this arms crossed. Isabella held the edge of the table in fear, biting her lip in anticipation of what would happen next. And Emilia held him tightly, convincing him the best the could not to fight back.

"I made a mistake", he whispered to his psychologist, looking down at the floor in shame, embarrasment, every negative emotion one could think of on the spot.

"It's okay." Emilia made him take a step back, and Ivan's psychologist got up to meddle in their problems. She chided him harshly, and Alfred realized how lucky he was to have a doctor who would never shout at him even when he misbehaved greatly. "We all make mistakes, that doesn't make us terrible people."

She made Isabella slowly approach them despite her fear, and took them both up to the staircase which lead to their patient rooms. Even though she was incredibly tired, emotionally drained, in a horrible mood because of the awkward tension between her and Lovisa, she had to stay professional, just like she knew.

"I hurt him." Alfred kept repeating all the way through the hallways. "I listened to them and I hurt someone."

"We'll talk it through in individual therapy today. Just don't beat yourself up over something you had no control over, okay?"

As she unlocked the door of room 72, the one that always made her heart skip a beat, she lead him inside and made him sit steady on the bed, leading him through taking deep breaths just like every time he broke down. And that was often.

"I can't believe myself, Emilia." He continued, curling up to his knees and taking a lot of concentration not to cry. "What made me go there and meddle into their business? What if Isabella didn't even want me to save her? What if she wasn't scared, I just perceived it wrong? Everything I do is wrong, I can't do this anymore--"

"Breathe, Alfred." She looked away for a second to gather herself, since she felt a breakdown of her own coming close. Of course, she had to be the one staying strong. The last thing she'd let herself do was cry in front of Alfred. Or any other patient, at that note.

Especially Alfred.

"I can't breathe, I don't want to breathe! This was all one big mistake, coming here, getting help... My brother should have left me to just die, because this is all so useless, I am so useless, and I don't see the point in continuing if I'm just going to continue feeling like this my entire life! I can't see the point, I can't look at the bright side because there is no bright side. My life never had that light at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel just got darker, alright? It will always get darker. No matter what I do. I should just give up. It would be better for anyone, wouldn't it?" He was severely hyperventilating at this point, tears streaming down his face without him letting it happen, his entire body shaking. Instead of curling up on the bed, he jumped up to aimlessly pace around nothingness, making his statements loud and clear as he hit the wall with his weak fists and hands. Emilia tried to stop him, but he pushed her away instead. "I don't want help, I want to disappear!" His motive wasn't to hurt anyone else but himself.

And that hurt her heart more than anything else. "Alfred, you have so much to live for... And you know it yourself. Don't you want to see Arthur one more time? Finish college, become a painter, attend your brother's wedding, create a family of your own... Hurting yourself will only get you into more trouble, and it isn't worth it. And if you end your life, it will devastate everyone around you. Your brother, Arthur, your friends, even the college professors. The entire school, in fact. You know who else would be crushed to pieces?" She stopped to look at him, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I would."

Alfred gazed at her in awe, still breathing heavily, wiping off his tears and trying to make this hysteria stop. "You would...?" He asked, blinking in confusion.

"Of course, Alfred. You mean a lot to all of us, and you know you have the power to get through the dark times. One day, it will all turn around for the better. The medication will help. The hallucinations will stop. You will know the difference between reality and fiction. You'll express everything you feel through art. You might settle down with Arthur, or perhaps find someone else who suits you even better. But trust me, life has so many beautiful opportunities. Your illness isn't going to be the one to take it away from you. Nothing will take it away from you. Do you understand?"

Truth be told, he didn't understand it. He didn't know anything at this point, but the simple fact of Emilia taking the time to comfort him instantly made him feel a little bit better. In fact, a lot better. He didn't fully believe her, maybe not at all, yet the words still managed to made their way to his heart.

"Thank you." He said shakily, leaning against the wall with a tired look in his eyes. "For everything."

"I've already said, you needn't thank me."

If only there was someone...

There always was.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

"Emilia, I am so in love with you."

The Icelander stared at her friend for a moment, blinking in awe and complete surprise, a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks because of the words being said. It flattered her, to say the least. But she felt guilty that she couldn't love her back.

Lovisa knew that, and she instantly regretted crying, confessing, saying anything... She could have been better without that heartbreak. She needed to focus on her work, on the patients' lives she had to take care of. Unfortunately, love did its job, and she couldn't help but finally tell Emilia how much she had felt for her for a long time already.

"Lovisa, I'm--"

"I know... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything. I know you don't feel the same, and it's okay." The Norwegian slightly smiled through her tears, wiping off the rest from her cheeks.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. Hey, we both fell in love with someone who's so close, yet so distant. That's nothing to be ashamed of." Emilia tried to comfort her the best she could, but she didn't cuddle up to her as she usually would. She wasn't disgusted, mad or anything similar, she just felt a little bit uncomfortable. But she also knew that the feeling wouldn't last forever.

"I just hope things won't get awkward between us. I still want to be your friend."

"Lovisa!"

Struck by a sharp shout coming from a familiar voice, the Norwegian psychiatrist came down from the high and back to earth, finally snapped out of her thoughts. She blinked a couple of times and looked around, realizing that she had been standing with the key of the antidepressant cabinet for about ten minutes now without unlocking it and handing Emilia the medication she needed.

She couldn't stop replaying the moment in her head. She only blamed herself for the tension she created between them - when in reality, neither of them were at fault.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She muttered, turning to an impatient Emilia who stood at the doorstep.

"I need Feliciano's usual dose of Prozac." Emilia said in a monotone voice, not greeting the other as cheerfully as she would any other day.

As she was handed the box of medication, she left the room with a nod instead of a verbal expression of gratitude and went towards the patient room of the Italian boy who needed to be treated. She felt guilty for acting out like that, but she couldn't help her emotions taking over at times. Especially if the situation dealt around love, since she was a total hopeless romantic and hated when she couldn't return feelings or if her feelings weren't returned either. Everything felt like a mess, but she was lucky to have her positive spirits keep her head up.

"Things always fix themselves", she told herself underneath her breath, deeply inhaling and standing still for a second before going on with her duty.

She was also shaken up from the individual therapy she had with Alfred a bit earlier in the day - the boy was completely out of it, wished to hurt himself to make it stop, wanted to disappear and thought his entire life was one big mistake that needed to be erased from the existence of time, space and the universe. He told her how he felt someone else was putting thoughts in his head, and that he was unable to get any sleep because of the constant fear. Nothing had calmed down. The voices didn't even always sound rational. They would go from creepy, demonic voices who told him to spill blood to weird commercial breaks he might have heard on television. Sometimes, they were completely senseless, connecting random words into meaningless sentences that only made him confused and so, so agitated.  
The fact that he wished to disappear hurt her the most. 

One of his other confessions was that he was scared that when he came back to university, he wouldn't be able to go on. Not only did he have a strong belief that everybody would hate him and think of him as insane, he knew that he wouldn't have the motivation for the studies he once enjoyed the most.

Still, he didn't want to drop out of college either, since it was his dream and he had the chance to pursue it.

And oh, he panicked far too easily. As soon as he realized he was dealing with a life deciding dilemma - to quit school and come back later or not - he spiraled into a long lasting panic attack that lasted over twenty minutes. She was there for him every minute of it.

He was nowhere near able to go on with his life normally and take care of himself, and it hurt her that she had to tell him that. It was her job to inform him whether he was ready or not. And he certainly wasn't. He was far from it. Perhaps he would even have to stay through June, though that most probably wouldn't happen, it was a small possibility.

Sometimes it was really difficult to empathize so deeply with all the people that were suffering, and she always saw them at their worst. On the other hand, she'd carry their pain if she could. That's why she devoted her life to the job. To help them get a grasp of reality again, to lift them up from the ground.

But goddammit, it was hard.

Especially if she grew close to patients, got to know them like family...

Or fell in love with them.

\- - -

Lying on the top bed of the dorm she shared with Matthew, Adrienne seemed relaxed at first sight. Her hair wasn't as fancy as she would usually fix it up, instead her beautiful brown hair almost covered her eyes, spread all around her as she aimlessly scrolled through her phone, paying attention to the time - she was going to visit Alfred at seven in the afternoon by herself. 

Matthew was right underneath, on the bottom bed, pretending to be asleep. Instead, his heart hurt whenever he recalled their recent fights. He couldn't think straight and wished he had the strength to be the first one to approach her and apologize, but he didn't see it as his fault. He didn't see it as her fault either. The great amounts of stress they had to cope with brought them to lashing out on each other, he just wanted to fix it all and forget about it.

It wasn't like they were drifting apart, it was all just far too difficult to handle at some point.

As the time was nearing seven o' clock, Adrienne closed those forty Chrome tabs she had opened and climbed down from the bed, putting on some casual clothing, since she couldn't really come visit a patient in something she'd usually wear. Instead of a long, maroon skirt, she chose some ordinary, dark blue sweatpants, and to wear on top she chose a pastel pink hoodie with no strings, and white stripes on the sleeves. Fixing up her hair in a quick, messy bun, she put on her shoes right after and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Matthew tiredly asked, the first sentence he told her since the fight and the door slam.

"Check the time." She answered in a monotone voice, and he did exactly what she told him, realization falling upon him when the phone screen showed 6:43.

"Oh." He said, making eye contact with her for a second before finally uttering another word. "Well, take care... I love you."

"I love you, too." Adrienne momentarily averted her gaze to the floor, and she couldn't help the tiny smile forming in the corner of her lips as she returned the affectionate words as she finally exited the room, closing the door behind herself.

Somehow, that little gesture managed to brighten up their whole week.

She was in luck that the hospital was only a couple of blocks away, because getting out of bed fifteen minutes before the visits were allowed was a bit risky. It's not like she would be denied entrance or anything, but she wanted each of those minutes with Alfred from seven to eight. No matter how bad his mental state was, she wanted to reassure him that he had her moral support at all times.

Arriving at the Yale New Haven Psychiatric Care was scary. It always was, and it's natural to be scared of the unknown. Despite the fact she'd already been here two times, both with Matthew, a jittery feeling filled her stomach and she felt a little bit heavy on her chest.

At the reception, she simply had to show her ID and she was let in, since they already had her checked as Alfred's friend in the files.

Room 72 wasn't at all difficult to find. A few staircases up - she never used the elevator, ever since she was a little child and read a random poster on the wall of a children's hospital she was visiting when she had the flu. The poster said that staircases are better than elevators for cardio reasons, and she followed that every time she had the ability to choose between the two. And each time, that poster would flash back to her mind. She didn't really know why, but she didn't want to betray her childhood self, little Adrienne who swore to herself to always make the right choice for her own health.

Emilia was just unlocking the doors on their floor for visitors to freely come in, and Adrienne greeted her in the hallway.

"Whoa, literally everyone came to visit tonight." The psychologist casually commented, unlocking Alfred's door and letting Adrienne in with a smile. "Keep an eye on him while I can't, okay?" She whispered, and Adrienne nodded in determination.

The French Canadian walked in slowly, and the door closed gently closed behind her. She was always afraid in what state she'd have to witness Alfred in. Would he scream, would he cry, push her away, or not talk to her at all?

Well, it was difficult to know from first glance.

Alfred was silently sitting next to the bed, curled up to his knees but in a casual manner, staring at a single dot, at nothingness, and he didn't say a single word. It was a pain to recognize whether he even noticed she came in or was he ignoring her presence. He muttered some things to himself under his breath and concentrated more, running his fingers through his hair a couple of times and almost wished to rip it out from the tension that was boiling inside of him.  
It was obvious he wasn't fully present in the space around him at all.

"Hey, uh... I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Adrienne stupidly said, inwardly cringing at her own poor choice of wording.

Once he finally noticed someone was really in the room, a voice that actually sounded real unlike the others, he carefully turned around towards the direction of where it was coming from, blinking a few times and taking deep breaths to ground himself back to reality.  
"Hey." His voice was weak, almost a whisper, and he quickly climbed back onto the uncomfortable bed, worried that she'd find him strange for sitting on the floor.

"How are you doing?" She patiently asked, looking for non verbal clues that would tell her if she could sit on the bed next to him or would that scare him away.

Luckily, she didn't have to search for a long time.

"Can you sit next to me?" He asked, ignoring her question, and she did as he asked without hesitation, accommodating herself as much as it was possible in these conditions. "Thanks." He smiled weakly, and she embraced him in a tight hug as if they hadn't seen each other for a thousand years.

She noticed how thin he was, obviously he wasn't eating much, being here sometimes even made him nauseous to eat. He looked worn out and tired, his hair messy and his entire appearance scruffy. It was so clear that he wasn't okay, and Adrienne felt so bad that he had to feel like that. After all, he was her future husband's brother, one of her closest friends-- scratch that, he was family. And she hated when family was in pain.

Mental or physical, it didn't matter. It was just as important, and both hurt emotionally. Knowing that Alfred's mind didn't know right from wrong and real from fake, being completely aware that his state drastically changed over the course of a month and that his entire life just turned a different direction because of this evil illness known as paranoid schizophrenia really made Adrienne want to jump on the science train and find or invent a cure that would forever erase it from humanity.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know. I don't want you to feel scared around me, okay? I know it sounds stupid, and I am aware that you're really afraid, but at least try. Trying is one step forward already. And it is certainly not a small step." The brunette attempted to convince him to open up, she didn't want them to sit in silence and wait for the time to pass. Because it passed by really quickly, and she wanted to hear his voice, to see the brightness in his blue eyes at least on a second.

If that was possible anymore.

"I'm scared of everything, Adrienne. But most of all, I'm scared of myself. Afraid to acknowledge who I've become." Alfred leaned against her, one leg dangling off the bed, his hands squeezing a pillow he took from the floor as he was getting up. "I want to wake up from this nightmare and laugh it off, but I know I can't. I'm stuck here, and I hate being stuck. In fact... I've started thinking about how nice it would be not to exist at all."

"Believe me when I say it, not existing would be really uncool." Adrienne didn't know how else to react to the heartwrenching words except with a little bit of humour. She knew it wouldn't offend him, and she was right, because he let out something that resembled a laugh and didn't look intimidated by her words at all. "You still have to go to an All Time Low concert with us, remember?" She smiled gently, making eye contact with his lifeless sky blue eyes which didn't show as much enthusiasm as they usually would. If they once showed the brightest weather, now they resembled English weather more than anything. Grey, cold, tired, sorrowful, rainy, cloudy...

"Yeah", Alfred chuckled, feeling tears arise from the inside. But he didn't let himself cry. "I wish I could go, but I'd just cause you guys trouble."

"Trouble? Pardon me, Alfred Francesco Jones, but you're going to see your favourite band live on stage even I have to drag you there full force. And you know it'll be great."

"Adrienne, I don't even have a middle name." He couldn't help but laugh at the entire statement, and she knew she succeeded in doing exactly what she wanted. To make him laugh at least halfheartedly, if nothing. Not weakly.

"Well, now you do." She brightly returned the laugh, wrapping an arm around him for comfort. "Just kidding. Francesco doesn't suit you at all."

"Wait", Alfred suddenly changed the topic from middle names, and Adrienne raised an eyebrow in confusion and anticipation about what he was going to do next once he got up from the bed, dropping the pillow on the floor - she picked it up, knowing that Matthew would chide them both for being so unhygienic if he was there - and he walked over to the desk. "I need to show you something I made. Emilia gave me the idea for it in therapy today."

Adrienne couldn't help but smile at the fact that he had something to keep him busy during the darkest hours. She was forever thankful for someone as kind as Emilia to be his psychologist. "Oh yeah? Show me!" She excitedly said, for a second feeling as if she was coaxing a little child to show her something he had done in school.

He rummaged through his notebooks slightly, finding a sheet of paper and bringing a pencil along with him as he sat back on the bed next to her. "It's a list of things worth living for. I managed to think of eleven already, and I gotta add this concert to the list."

"That's brilliant, Alfred. I'm really proud of you for doing it." She read through the list from the side, watching him clumsily write out '12 - go to an ATL concert with all my friends'.  
She caught note of how almost all happenings and reasons had people in them, except painting and writing, that was something he loved in his alone time. But whether it was her, Arthur, Matthew, Liz, Gilbert or even a college professor, it was clear that Alfred lived for the people, for those he loved. 

'1 - get back into painting  
2 - go on more dates with Arthur  
3 - attend Matt's and Adrienne's wedding  
4 - help those who need it as much as I do  
5 - share my experiences through a book (when I finally learn how to write)  
6 - thank Emilia for helping me through the countless panic attacks  
7 - revisit my little bench underneath the oak tree  
8 - get back in touch with my college friends  
9 - tell Matthew how much I love him and thank him for everything he's ever done  
10 - listen to my favourite music with my friends  
11 - feel calm when the medication actually starts working (I know it will)  
12 - go to an ATL concert with all my friends'

The list looked nice, but there was just something missing. Well, many more things, yet Adrienne could only think of one thing at the top of her head. "May I add one?" She asked, and Alfred simply nodded, handing her the pencil and paper.

She remembered a phrase that Matthew always said when things would get rough - he said it after their first ever fight when they just started college, he would repeat it every time there was a string of bad things happening, but she felt as if he stopped believing in it since Alfred's state worsened.

Well, maybe this would bring it back to him.

'13 - find a balance in everything' , she wrote out in nearly perfect calligraphy, drawing a small heart on the side.

"That's what Matthew always says." Alfred noticed, his hands shaky as he took the paper and read the last one in his head.

"Exactly. And he's right, isn't he?"

"I suppose so..." Alfred shyly smiled, still staring at the 13th reason and thought of how much that simple sentence reminded him of his brother. "This is a good thing that happened, it counts as balance."

"I'm really proud of you, Alfred", Adrienne whispered to him, hugging him once more. "You're really strong."

"I'm a Jones, of course I'm strong." He chuckled jokingly. "Thank you." In all seriousness, he said, hugging her back with the same amount of enthusiasm.

"It's enough you're alive."


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

June

They usually felt like time was running past them quicker than it should. Before Alfred's mental health quickly deteriorated to the point of having to admit him into a psychiatric unit of the hospital, before the end of this college pressured them with final projects and exams they needed to give in, they felt like they couldn't get a grasp of time because it flew by them too fast.

Now, it was so slow that it was agonizing.

Well, at least to some of them.

To Alfred, seconds seemed like minutes, minutes turned to months, months to years and he lost track of time, track of life, of reality as a whole, and a huge part of him started regretting willingly admitting himself into the ward. On the other hand, he didn't hallucinate as strongly, but the medication was what made him so out of it (even more than he already was). Along with the fact there was no cure that would make him fully recover. There were only stabilizers, a bunch of pills and shots and exercises to ground himself back to earth, but nothing really helped. And even if the voices weren't as loud as they were in the first two weeks or so, he felt so hopeless, sleepless, worthless, detached, isolated, everything came crashing down on him. It didn't help that he started having sudden flashbacks from the car accident that took place nearly thirteen years ago - reliving the traumatic experience through the hallucinations and voices that made it all even more dramatic than it was, telling him how his parents wanted to die and how it wasn't an actual accident. Which he knew it was. He was the one who pointed at the incoming vehicle from the other side, his mother just didn't have a quick enough reaction to it and they hit it straight on the front.  
He didn't remember much of what happened after, he just knew that the next thing he felt was waking up in the hospital and having to face the awful truth - but his imagination always knew how to take it too far. For some reason, he now knew every unreal detail about how it felt crashing into that truck. His skin was burning at the imaginary sensations, and his breath would stop in his throat, he'd start choking and anyone who didn't know his diagnosis would think he was having regular respiratory problems or some kind of physical illness. Oh, but he was aware of it too well. They all knew and hated the truth.

Nonetheless, Alfred wasn't going to be in the hospital for much longer. In fact, he was getting discharged from it today, after a full month of therapy - he wasted the entirety of May sulking in the corner of the patient room, only saying a normal sentence when Emilia was around, or someone that was visiting him. At first, therapy helped him form coherent sentences, but later on, he started thinking in disorganized ways again, followed by a new round of different medication. He hated it.

Take pills with food, take shots every week, take pills in the morning, take shots in the evening, and so the cycle repeated.

He knew that it was the only way they knew to help him, including behavioural, group and individual therapy which was actually good, unless he was forced to go on days he could barely get out of bed.

Perhaps from Emilia's perspective, things were looking up for Alfred's mental health at least a little. He went through with making a list of reasons to live, he laughed more than he did the first week he was there, he only got into one more fight with Ivan that didn't disturb him as much as it did the first two times, but the number of panic attacks he had was still concerning.

She didn't want him out of the hospital yet - she was aware that he wouldn't be able to take care of himself, that he couldn't finish college one way or the other because he missed a month of work and exams anyway. Life at the dorm would be a pain for him. Arthur wouldn't know what to do. Matthew and Adrienne were soon leaving Yale.

But she hoped that things were looking up.

He hid so many things from her in therapy, stopped sharing the details with the hope that he'd get out of here earlier. In that aspect, he did have luck. Instead of getting out when the college year ended, he got out as it was planned at first, right at the end of may or the first week of June.

And June the 1st it was.

"Okay, I think we packed all your things. Your clothing is all in the bags, the drawings, notebooks, pens, pencils, your diary, everything's set. We just gotta get through with the discharge plan now. Which is basically just prescribing you medication that you have to take every single day, you better not miss a dose, and informing you when you'll have to come here to take your shot. And that's it. Then we take you down to the reception where we'll have your brother waiting for you. Since it has to be the one who signed as your caretaker, and that was Matthew, as far as I remember." Emilia helped him pack his bags, leaving the bed making and everything else to the cleaning service that went through each room when the patients left.

Through the weeks he was here, her love for him grew stronger. She looked up to his strength to bear everything on his chest without a sound of complaint when he was acting like himself. It was one thing to panic during a psychotic attack, but whenever he knew where he was, he'd only thank her, never complained and never, ever said that he felt like shit for being here. He felt like shit because of his illness, and that was true. But he didn't have the guts to tell her exactly how bad he felt for being stuck here.

Still, she knew. That's why she appreciated him even more, even though she wasn't so glad that he was keeping some things in.

Now when he was leaving, she was afraid that they'd never see each other again. If nothing, she wanted to stay friends. Because they did grow to know so much about each other, the deepest, darkest corners of their mind. And she would be the only one of his friends to truly know how to help him during a relapse, to be real. So what would be the cost of remaining in contact?

"It's a thought book, not a diary. For the last time." Alfred rolled his eyes, placing the heavy bag on the bed and throwing a sharp glare to the psychologist. She couldn't help but laugh a little.

"I'm sure it is." She smirked, helping him handle the luggage. He got weaker over the time he was here. Thinner, paler, all his previous strength disappearing. But that was a side effect of medication. Loss of appetite, excessive weight loss, loss of everything he used to be, basically. He just didn't want to fully admit that to himself, yet.

After they packed everything up, the two of them spent a couple of minutes in silence. Alfred sat on the edge of the bed - which was still the most uncomfortable thing he ever got to sleep on - and Emilia paced around, obviously nervous.

Until the American broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

Emilia stopped her aimless pacing, giving him a hum of approval as she sat down and made herself accommodated next to him. "Sure thing. You know you can always ask me anything."

"Are you sure I'll be able to function normally? I mean, I'm being sent back into the world again, and as much as I want it, badly at that note, I'm afraid that things are not looking up whatsoever. I'm afraid that I'll get worse, and that I'll push everyone away, make life hell for them..."

Truthfully, that was possible. Matthew and Arthur might have been getting themselves into a very tough situation by taking Alfred back to university. Elizabeta, Gilbert and Adrienne could feel exhausted and irritated by his constant paranoia. The people at the school who were all once his friends could turn against him because of the chains of stigma holding them back from accepting and supporting those who struggle from mental illnesses, especially those like schizophrenia, which the media portrays in a completely different way than it actually is.

But again, Alfred might feel better getting back into the world, not being as isolated as he would be if he stayed in the corner of the dark hospital room.

There were so many possibilities, so many ways his story could go, so they could only hope that it takes a positive turn. A chance always existed, that was the most important thing.

"Listen, Alfred." She tried to break it down to him honestly. "It can happen. Of course it can. I mean, you know it better than I do, anything can happen." She referred to the fact that his life unexpectedly took a turn for the worst and made him psychotic halfway through his first year of college. "But it was you who always talked about hope. You gotta keep that in you, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Alfred listened to her words silently as he always would, his eyes scanning across the room or just staring at nothingness, zoning out and snapping himself back to reality as he always would. He still heard everything she said, wishing that he could promise her that he'd be hopeful, but it was difficult. Far too difficult, and he didn't believe in hope as much as he used to.

"And what if I can't?" He retorted, it almost seemed rude. But she knew she couldn't get offended at the behaviour of someone who didn't know where he was most of the time he was awake.

"I know you can, we both know it." She gently took his hand, making eye contact with him - well, it was strange to call it eye contact when he looked so hazy and detached like he was only present here in the room with his body, but not his mind. "We've talked this through in therapy multiple times already."

Alfred pursed his lips together, glancing at Emilia, then back at the floor and trying to gather all the thoughts. He was obviously very scared, but on the other hand, Emilia's words did make sense.

Perhaps everything would be better once Matthew picked him up and lead him back to the university.

"So", she continued, noticing how he was thinking about what she said, observing the little movements he did with his eyebrows and eyes once he knew that he had nothing more to add, and that she understood what was being said, "you ready to go?"

He looked back at her, sighing deeply and nodding a few times, he couldn't help but let a couple of tears slide down his cheeks as a small smile was created in the corners of his lips.

"Let's go. I'm ready."


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Alfred used to think that being admitted to a psychiatric hospital would be really difficult. And it certainly was. A couple of months ago, if someone told him he would be diagnosed with a psychotic illness, medicated constantly, that he would have mood swings all the time and that he'd hallucinate not only really loud voices, but also images and sensations of things and people that weren't there, he would tell that person they're crazy and know nothing. Now, he was getting out of such a hospital with all of that still burdening his chest.  
Admission was hard. He had to go through a long process of diagnosing, meeting his psychologist, having his first short individual therapy, getting all these tests taken, from psychological to blood tests, and he had to carry all his luggage to the room he'd have to stay in for a month.

But being discharged from the hospital now seemed ten times harder than that. They had to do the written test again just to 'be sure' he was ready to be let out. And sure, he might have scored low on it, but no one really gives a damn about those things anymore. They prescribed him medication, and told him to come to this exact ordination every single month on the 15th to get a shot of antipsychotics, and if he didn't do that, he wouldn't be able to function. For home, he got a pack of casual pills to take each morning. Well, this was certainly going to be a hazy year, lost in medication and not very productive.

The most difficult part was saying goodbye to Emilia, who he had grown close to. He had all the right to, after all, they saw each other every single day for the past month, sometimes even stayed up together during the nights - but those nights were usually filled with panic attacks, yet also lots of personal conversations he would never forget.

As she helped carry his bags downstairs towards the reception, she kept throwing little sideways glances at him, simply couldn't help it. She was scared that she'd never see him again. He was a great person. Even though she was aware there was nothing to do about the fact she wouldn't get any romance with him, friendship sounded great. Despite the fact his mental state was quite unstable, that meant nothing to her. He was a great person, that was what mattered the most, that's what should matter the most to people.

They left the luggage with the receptionist as they headed into the patient discharge ordination where a co-worker Julia spent her work time, knocking onto the door just to make sure that the girl wasn't in the middle of an important call or anything.

Once they heard an affirmation that they could come in, they slowly stepped into the office, Emilia gently telling Alfred to sit in the chair on the other side of Julia's desk. The girl had extremely long, pale blonde hair that almost reached the floor, and wore hipster glasses with black edges. Her facial expression seemed serious, but there was a hint of softness in her blue eyes behind the glass.

"Am I gonna have to take any more of those stupid Rorschach tests? I mean for the last time, I see a bunch of useless inkblots, not dead children or whatever y'all think I see. It's not even good art. I would know." Alfred was obviously bored of seeing a paper and a pen, something he faced a lot today already, and he just had to ask.

"No, nothing like that. Don't worry. I'll just ask you a couple of question, you'll have to sign a paper, and we'll call your caretaker to come pick you up. That's it." Julia said in a monotone voice, more intimidating than he thought it would be. Although she did also have a soothing foreign accent, but not as nice sounding as Emilia's was to him, still, that just might have been because he was used to Emilia's, and not to Julia's.

"Why can't Emilia ask the questions?" He asked without thinking, making the two girls exchange a 'not so friendly' look with each other. The Icelander unconsciously bit her lip, awkwardly shifting in her standing position and slightly leaning against the chair that Alfred was sitting on.

"Alfred, just follow along, please", she whispered to him, avoiding to make any more eye contact with the Swedish girl at the desk. Roughly said, they had a bit of history behind them that didn't end up too well. It had to do with a shared apartment, a roommate agreement and paying rent.

The American still had a great ability to read the atmosphere, it was simply engraved in his mind, and it suddenly hit him that a great dose of tension formed in the room between the two co-workers. So he decided to nod and follow along as he answered the questions, just as he was advised by his psychologist.

Luckily, they weren't difficult to answer. It seemed more like they were a useless, but obligatory part of the patient discharge routine that were robotic and rehearsed, not like when Emilia asked him questions in therapy that came from the heart.

Thank goodness they didn't take more than a couple of minutes of their time, though. Soon enough, Julia looked up Alfred's profile on the computer and found Matthew's phone number under the column caretaker, dialing it and waiting for the other to answer.

Of course, Matthew knew why he was being called. The last time he payed a visit to Alfred in his hospital room, he was told that somewhere during the beginning of June, hopefully on June the 1st, he would have to pick up his brother as his institutionalization time was soon to be over.

So once he received the call from an unknown number that obviously came from some kind of institution, he instantly answered, almost panicky, his friends all watching him with anticipation as they all agreed to work on their final projects together - more specifically, it was Elizabeta's idea after she realized that Adrienne and Matthew kept fighting a lot, and she wanted to bring the whole group closer again, especially the two of them.

"Hello? Matthew Jones on the phone, how can I help you?" He politely asked just like he did every time he got a call from an unknown number.

"Hello, Yale New Haven Hospital calling. You're the brother of Alfred Jones, as it says in our files, and you're obliged to come pick him up at the psychiatric care unit. He'll be waiting with his psychologist at the reception." Julia recited the words, definitely sounding even more robotic than when asking questions. It was like she didn't even care, she did it as a routine, read out rehearsed words she used for each patient, just with different names.

Alfred was fidgety in his seat, all of this making him very emotional, unexplainable, all over the place, and at one point he even took off his glasses just to wipe them off into his shirt again and again just like the movement was on autopilot. He didn't even realize what he was doing until Emilia noticed his panicky state and took the glasses out of his slightly shaky hands, putting them back where they belonged. In that split second, the two made eye contact, and the Icelander once again felt her heart skip a bit at the sight of those sapphire blue eyes that kept shining bright despite what went on behind them. Such a shame she wouldn't see them every day, perhaps never since she felt like she would be too shy to ever give him a call. And he would only get his medication shots at Lovisa's ordination, which meant she wasn't included in it.

"Uh, can we go to the reception right now? I feel the need to move around, I can't sit in one place." He confessed to her in a hasty tone, and she nodded, wanting to get out of this little room just as much as he did. The last thing she needed were Julia's silent glares which the Swede thought weren't obvious, but were actually easy to spot.

"Sure thing, Alfred." She responded with gentleness in her tone, and as he got her permission, he got up and they both headed out through the door. Being professional as she knew how to be, Emilia greeted Julia goodbye and left closed the door behind two of them, a low 'phew' escaping her throat, and she silently laughed at herself for still feeling tension around Julia even though their little disagreement happened two years ago.

They walked over to the reception, taking their luggage and sitting in the waiting room right across the counter, no one else was there, and Alfred wondered how long other patients stay. That was one of the rare thoughts that didn't pop into his mind over the past month. Luckily, he didn't have to keep it in, he knew who could answer it for him.

So he asked Emilia.

"Hey, uh... How long do other patients usually stay at the hospital? This month seemed like forever, do they stay that long as well?"

And she was happy to bring him the answer. "It always depends. Some stay for months, some even years, depends on how dangerous they are not only to themselves, but others as well. You're not dangerous in any of those aspects. And you function pretty well in terms of having conversations with people. So there is not only one true answer to that question.

"I couldn't imagine being here for years. This felt like a century, too! I mean..." He interrupted himself, noticing he would soon start rambling about how he felt isolated, but on the other side, he didn't want to make Emilia feel bad about herself. She was there for him at every moment. It was just... Different. He missed his brother, his lover, his best friends. "I had you next to me, and I'm very thankful for that. Don't think I'll ever forget our three AM talks about life. I just miss college, you know?"

She listened carefully to his words with a smile on her face she wasn't able to prevent, and a light blush brightening up her cheeks. "I understand that. And... I won't forget that either. I'd love to get back in contact with you someday. You know, catch up on life, get a drink, talk about feelings, art, stuff we both like. As friends, not as doctor and patient."

"That sounds nice. We could do that." He smiled back, his eyes shooting up as he thought of an idea, immediately looking in the smallest back he kept in his lap, the one in which he put his notebooks and diary.

"What are you looking for?" She asked curiously.

"This", he flipped through his latest sketchbook, taking a small, signed drawing into his hand. The only one with an actual signature, and a little message on the back, "is for you." Finish the previously paused sentence, he handed the paper to Emilia, and she carefully took it in the softest possible manner. "Read the message later."

She blinked in confusion, chuckling wholeheartedly at the fact that Alfred drew her a picture. Just for her.

The picture was a somewhat messy pencil drawing of two people standing together on top of a mountain, half of the paper purposefully shaded dark, and the other white with a slight transition in between. There was no sun, but there were rays shining on the two from the top left corner, words written on the rays in such tiny letters that she could barely see what they said. The characters held hands, both looking up towards the sky, and it was obvious that they resembled the two of them, Alfred and Emilia. She was smiling all throughout looking at the drawing, examining every part of it again and again. "It's beautiful." She commented, and he could only hug her in a way of thanking her, glad that he made her happy at least a little bit. "Thank you." She said, hugging him with the same amount of gratefulness and passion.

Their little moment was interrupted by Matthew, who appeared at the reception and saw the two of them in each other's embrace in the waiting space, running up to them both with anticipation in every move he made - he couldn't wait to have Alfred back at Yale, especially because they only had about two weeks together dorm to dorm before he and Adrienne graduated from college and moved into their small apartment together.

Alfred noticed the familiar sound of his footsteps from behind, turning around after pulling away from Emilia's hug and smiling as bright as he could at seeing his brother. He nearly jumped out of his seat, finding himself in another embrace.

"Alfred, I'm so happy you're coming back...!" The older brother excitedly said, but it was so clear just by his voice that he was tired and sleepless. And once Alfred could have a look at his face, he saw the exhaustion even more. Things got a little bit overwhelming for him as well.

"I'm happy, too." Alfred replied, hugging tightly for another second before turning back to Emilia, who gladly helped him pick up his bags. Matthew took the biggest bag from her hands, even though Alfred insisted on carrying it, they both knew he was a bit physically weak as well, since his mental health took a toll on his body.

"He's all ready to go." Emilia and Alfred shared one last glance - from one side, it was in a friendly, and from the other, it was in a much more loving manner, but at this exact moment, that simply didn't matter. They had a friendship, that was for sure.

She wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Hopefully." Alfred added, looking down on a second and chuckling at his own uncertainty.

But she didn't want him uncertain.

"You have my number, call me anytime. In the middle of the night, if you need to calm down from a panic attack. If you have any more of those flashbacks, use the grounding technique to bring yourself back to the real world. And you know how to do reality checks, but you can also teach them your friends to do them if you can't do them by yourself from time to time. Don't forget to take your medicine. I'm sure Arthur is going to remind you every five minutes, though. And don't forget to come here every month. But most importantly, don't forget that it's all going to be okay. No matter how heavy it felt on your chest. You're a natural optimist, so that you will remain. I know you will." She reminded him one more time, patting his shoulder in a friendly way, her eyes showing that she truly believed in him. She believed he could do it.

"Thank you for everything." He replied softly, a shy smile forming on his face once again.

Matthew thanked her all the same for taking care of his brother, and the next thing they knew, they left the hospital in only a few slow steps, the big glass door closing behind them as Alfred waved to Emilia one more time.

She remained standing there for a long minute, spacing out and staring at the nothingness in the distance, until the receptionist noticed her mind's absence and called her name. Snapped out of thought, the Icelander ran her fingers confusedly through her long, silver hair a couple of times, sighing and bringing herself back to earth as she headed back upstairs. She had other patients to check on once in a while, even though they were doing quite alright at the moment.

But curiosity got the best of her, and she wouldn't be able to focus if she didn't see.

Searching through the pocket of her uniform, she pulled out the drawing Alfred gave her and looked it for a couple of seconds before turning it to the other side to read the message he told her to read only when he left.

'Dear Emilia,

It's a bit weird to write a message like this to someone who's supposedly only your therapist, but I just had to do it.

I want to stay in contact with you. Not only as your patient, but as your friend. We have a lot in common, and want it or not, we shared our darkest moments with each other. Heck, you're the only one who knows my medication schedule for now.

My point is, I'd love to meet you a couple of times, invite you to hang out with your friends.

If it doesn't sound repulsive to hang out with a bunch of college kids, though.

Thank you for helping me stay alive for the past month. I've learnt valuable lessons that will definitely help me continue through recovery. Which is basically going to be my whole life starting now. I can't get out of this, but I have written down your words in my thought book (I'm not admitting it's a diary) so I can reread them on the bad days. And I know I will have lots of those. That's okay, though.

Thank you once more, and stay safe.

Sincerely, me.

(Okay, I won't make any musical references. I'll sign it like a well mannered person.)

With love, Alfred Jones'

A single tear slid down Emilia's cheek, staining the inked signature at the bottom of the paper. She couldn't let herself cry in the middle of the hallway, though. The last thing she wanted was to make someone worry about her.

The letter was just so beautiful, she couldn't help it.

Alfred really did want to stay friends.

Even if she didn't want to, tears started streaming down her face more and more, and she quickly folded the paper and put it back into her pocket, wiping them off before someone saw her. Unfortunately, it was too late.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a familiar voice from the back showing worry. "Emilia?" And as she turned around, she found herself face to face with Lovisa, the girl who confessed her love for her, and since then, they haven't spoken any words except those related to work, and didn't share a feeling with each other. "Are you alright...?"

Until now.

Lovisa knew that today was Alfred's day to leave the hospital, and she was the one to instruct him how to handle his medication before he left, she completely expected Emilia to get emotional. She would have been the same.

The silver haired girl just shook her head, instinctively hiding her face behind the palms of her hands. "I'm not." She confessed shakily, and the Norwegian didn't know what else to do but hug her right there in the middle of the empty hallway, the other accepting the embrace without any word of complaint.

"Well, you're going to be. Because I'm taking you out for some vanilla ice cream and a four layered chocolate cake as soon as our shift is over tonight. In the friendliest way. We've never stopped being friends, and I can't stand you being sad. Some sugar always defeats all love problems."

Emilia cried some more, embraced by her best friend, listening to comforting words and taking in the other's scent and the warmth she radiated onto her. It was all she needed in a moment like this.

Life is pretty goddamn complicated, that's something that has always been this way and it always will be.

But it's important to have those who care about you, around you.

That's what Emilia Steilsson had. That's what Alfred Jones had as well. With those people, Emilia wouldn't lose hope in love just because she had only once fallen for someone she couldn't have, and Alfred wouldn't lose hope in recovering, living, and doing what he loved to do.

Somehow, this experience taught them both a valuable life lesson to keep.

They sure weren't going to forget it.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

"Wow, I haven't seen sunlight in a month. I nearly forgot how much I love it.."

Walking out of the hospital and, at last, letting those glass door be shut behind them, Alfred was finally coming back to Yale University. Matthew was right there next to him, helping him carry all the bags full of clothing, art supplies and notebooks that he had with him while he spent his time in isolation, in a small patient room without a window or anything that was in his particular interest.

He looked up towards the bright blue skies of New Haven, only now realizing how much he truly missed being outside and looking around himself, at all these people walking by as they took their slow steps towards the dormitory. Just a little bit more, and he was going to be back. Surrounded by the people he loved. And he couldn't wait.

"It really is beautiful." Matthew glanced at his brother from the side, feeling instantly happier as he saw the younger smile a little bit. That simple action was so heartwarming to him, it managed to free him of his worries at least on a moment. "I can't explain how glad I am to have you back."

"We'll see that once we settle my stuff back in." Alfred laughed at them both, but mostly at himself. Even though he seemed relaxed at the moment - and he was, a little bit - he knew very well that those days of real relaxation were over for him. No matter what he did, that paranoia was going to be stuck with him, and so were the voices here and there. Which meant that he was, from time to time, going to cause his family some trouble, whether he wanted it or not. And he didn't.

Life was going to be much different for all of them from now and into the future. Things were changing at a rather fast pace, and they didn't even realize that all of their current troubles were change. Matthew and Adrienne finishing college, changing their place of living. Alfred couldn't keep up with his old, social lifestyle like this anymore. At least not at the start. He had to adapt to being the way he was before he could get into anymore debate teams, humanitarian groups, public speaking, anything like that. But looking at the bright side, he had art. At any time of day and night (though he did learn his lesson about painting at three in the morning) he could pick up a paintbrush and create a new masterpiece coming from the heart. He planned to use it as a way of coping just like he did for almost the past thirteen years.

As they arrived in front of the dormitory, about fifteen minutes later, Matthew noticed that Alfred was a little bit hesitant to get in. Well, it didn't need a lot of brains to notice it, since he refused to go in and stood by the side, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms, glancing over and over again at the great entrance door. He just needed to get in there, stand at the counter, get checked in, receive his dorm key again and that was it.

But it wasn't that simple. Not to him.

The older American sighed, looking at the tired expression on the other's face, his sleepless eyes giving away all his pain. He approached his brother, and Alfred instantly looked down at the floor, embarrassment washing over him from the fear that he couldn't go back in there. "Alfred, why won't you go in?"

"Because... I'm scared of what they'll think of me." Alfred admitted, letting his bag with the notebooks slide down his forearm and fall onto the ground as he did the same thing, curling up to his knees against the wall of the building. Luckily, there weren't many students passing by to see them, only a couple of those who spent their evenings outside at some really fancy places judging by how fancy they dressed. "I'm not ready to be called a psycho, and insane, and all those words I don't even want to say. I'm more than this illness. At least that's what Emilia said, and I believe her."

"Not everyone's going to be like that. Sure, there are always those idiots here and there, but you are going to be surrounded by supportive people for the most part. That's what matters the most. Stick to those people and everything is going to be alright." Without even rethinking it, Matthew sat down next to Alfred to comfort him, placing the palm of his hand on top of Alfred's slightly shaky hands which relaxed in his lap.

"But you and Adrienne are gone in two weeks, how am I going to handle being away from you for such a long time? I'm staying in the dorm over summer, not like I have any other place to live, and before you ask because I know you'll ask, I am not staying with you and Adri. You guys are engaged now, you have your own life, the last thing you need is a crazy little brother on your tail."

"You're going to handle it greatly, trust me. You can always revisit Emilia if you're feeling particularly bad on some days, you have Arthur who I'm sure will listen to everything you have to say, you are on medication unlike the last time I left you alone while you were untreated... See? It's going to be much, much better than you think." Matthew didn't believe his own words completely, but he knew that the only thing he needed to do right now was to get Alfred into that dormitory and lead him back to his dorm room, because once he saw his friends, once he saw Arthur, things would change in a matter of milliseconds.

Alfred took the words to his heart, thinking about them for a couple of minutes on the dusty, grey asphalted ground in front of the building, before he finally made a decision to stand up and get back in there like he was supposed to do at the start.

"You know what? You're right. I'm doing this. I can do this. I'm going to enjoy what I have left of this life as much as I can, it's important that I try my best." He said in a voice more confident than usual, picking up the bag from the ground and throwing it over his shoulder even though it was far too small to be carried like that. Oh, Matthew couldn't express in words how thankful he was to hear that confident tone, that stance that screamed to take over the world. That was who Alfred truly was. A young boy with dreams, hopes, and a passion to achieve them. And art was both his dream and his passion. "Let's go make some drawings, huh?" He smiled, turning towards his brother once more and seeing his nod of approval before they walked in through the entrance, Alfred almost feeling inwardly transformed once he stepped foot into the dormitory.

"I'm so proud of him." Matthew whispered under his breath, following his younger brother towards the check-in counter with a smile. The receptionist was really happy to see him back, and her face said it honestly. Alfred was known through the University for his art, but he didn't expect a big greeting from the receptionist lady when he returned.

And that definitely contributed to the confidence boost he needed a lot these days.

Soon enough, the two of them found themselves on the correct floor where their dorm rooms were, and the hallways seemed so empty and quiet. Not a single group chatting their time away could be found. It wasn't like Alfred remembered it the last time he was here.

"Where is everyone?" He asked Matthew as they approached the room where every one of their friends always gathered - Adrienne and Matthew's dorm room.

"Finals are coming up. It's been quiet for some time now. Well, a couple of days, since everyone was lazying around until the last minute."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I'm still salty about the fact I don't have time to give in the final projects to finish this semester."

"You're rambling, Alfred." Matthew noticed, chuckling at his brother as Alfred realized what he was doing himself - shying away from entering the room and facing all his friends in one place again. He was scared, he really was. Nothing could change that, not even Matthew's words of support. "Are you ready to get in there now?"

The younger American sighed, almost bouncing in place from tension, but at the end, he nodded anyway as a way of saying he was truly ready now. "Yup, no more hesitation. I gotta do this now or never. And never doesn't sound like a good idea."

So they did exactly that.

Walking into the room which was occupied with Adrienne, Arthur, Elizabeta, Gilbert, and even Emma with another friend of hers that Alfred had never seen before, it took them less than two seconds to jump him with a bunch of hugs and shouts of f 'welcome back' that everyone repeated at least once. He couldn't breathe in Adrienne's tight embrace, but that was settled easily when Arthur meddled in to say they were suffocating him. That was just from his personal experience of hating hugs. Alfred, on the other hand, loved it.

He missed this kind of affection from the ones he loved all in one place... Plus the blonde haired girl he never met, but she was welcome, too. Everybody was welcome.

His bags were on the floor, pushed into the corner, yet no one including him really cared about that. Well, except Matthew, who immediately jumped to save his stuff and put it on the desk just temporarily. They would have to take those to Alfred's and Arthur's dorm room later anyway.

"We're so happy to have you back!" Elizabeta's voice went high pitched just like it always would when she was very excited. She was the last one to suffocate him before everyone finally let him go, to which Arthur rolled his eyes and muttered 'thank you for keeping him alive' underneath his breath.

"Yeah, we gotta go out for a beer to celebrate." Gilbert offered, and Alfred couldn't help but laugh a little. It was something he would offer for every big moment in their life. And he'd always refuse.

"I'm still underage, and I can't drink while I'm on my meds. Now I've got two things saving me from your drunken charades." The American chuckled again, while the German showed fake dissatisfaction. In reality, he was extremely glad to have his best friend around again. He only got to visit him once, since Adrienne and Matthew wanted it the most, Arthur shied away in his room and worked most of the time, and he didn't want to go alone. Elizabeta detested hospitals of any kind, she couldn't have accompanied him anyway.

"I'm just wondering how on earth can so many people fit in this tiny room." Emma commented from the side, receiving a nod of agreement from Arthur who sat next to her on the bottom bed where Matthew usually slept on.

Adrienne made sure that Alfred felt as comfortable as possible, so when he said he needed a bit of fresh air, she didn't hesitate to open a window and tell everyone to move away a little. She knew very well this was all rather emotional for him, and wanted to be there for him any moment he required it.

"Well, thanks for this warm welcome... I didn't think I deserved it." The young American awkwardly stood in front of them all, standing a bit closer to the door in case he needed to run in fear - his paranoid mind just needed to make sure to escape if there was an imaginary emergency of any kind. "But, uh, who's the girl next to Emma and Arthur? I-I don't want to be rude, I just haven't met her--"

"Of course you deserve it!" Adrienne took him by the hand gently so she wouldn't scare him in any way, bringing him closer to the curly blonde who sat on the bed next to Arthur and Emma and had her legs crossed, wearing a plain white dress that seemed fancier than anything the French Canadian girl had ever worn. And that meant something. Sure, the dress caused a tiny spark of jealousy in Adrienne, but she would never admit that. Instead, she asserted her dominance in the room in her room by throwing an arm around Matthew flashing an almost unnoticeable glare to the newcomer in the group.

Emma spoke up to introduce the girl, happily smiling like everyone else, completely oblivious of the tension that lingered in the air in between Adrienne the mystery girl in the white dress. "Right... Alfred, this is Sara. She's my best friend from Netherlands. Arthur likes her, so I thought it wouldn't be bad to introduce you to her as well."

"...Nice to meet you." Alfred gave her a single suspicious look, glancing around quickly to see if anyone else had any expression on their faces which said they were weirded out by Sara's presence. No one was, then why was he?

But since Arthur liked her, and he had a tough time making friends, Alfred was glad to give her a shot.

\- -

 

Some time later, they weren't all hanging out together in the tight space of Matt's and Adrienne's room anymore. After a few non-alcoholic drinks (Elizabeta provided coffee and orange juice from the cafeteria, even though Gilbert protested and desperately wanted any kind of shot, it didn't even have to be beer) and a lot of conversation, Alfred finally needed to take the bags back to his dorm room, and more importantly, needed to reunite with Arthur on their own. Since he came back, Arthur and he only said 'hi' to each other. And that hurt the American.

Matthew, Adrienne and the Hungarian-German duo decided to stay and hang out together, while Sara and Emma went their ways.

There was something odd in the Dutch girl's eyes, but Alfred couldn't decode exactly what. So he wrote a mental note to himself to talk about it with Arthur once they found the time to.

Back in their shared room, the first thing they did is smash the door behind themselves after saying goodbye to everyone, the movement followed by crashing their lips together in a passion they hadn't experienced in a month. Arthur was all on the American the wildest he had ever been, bringing him over to the bottom bed where he slept and wrapping both his arms around his waist. Alfred responded with the same amount of eagerness, letting out small sounds of pleasure every once in a while as he placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders. His current strength made it impossible for him to dominate the situation, but it didn't matter. This was nice as well, though unusual for him.

"Now it's welcome back, Alfred." Once they separated from the kiss, Arthur looked down at his lover and smiled lovingly, and the American could feel his heart skip a beat once his sapphire eyes made contact with those forest green ones of the Englishman.

"I missed you so much."

"I missed you more."

"Debatable." Alfred laughed airily, bringing Arthur down for another kiss, this time shorter, which the Brit didn't refuse. He wouldn't refuse in a million years.

It felt amazing being together again like this. The best feeling in the world, and even that was an understatement. It was like they had known each other for years, not only weeks, and like this month of separation was something they had experienced for the first time in their four year long relationship. And even if it wasn't, it felt like it. The reunion couldn't have been better.

If only there wasn't for Alfred's subconsciousness telling him to talk about Sara. He just had to. There was something off with her, the way her dark green eyes seemed to be born of lies. How come Arthur didn't spot it?

Alfred wanted to forget about it, just blamed it on his overwhelming paranoia and difficulty trusting people, but on the other hand, his gut instincts claimed to be true many times in the past.

"We need to talk about something. More precisely, someone."

He couldn't help but blurt it out in the middle of their little makeout session, it was bothering him too much, and Arthur and he were going to have much more together time from now on since the American was back to Yale and here to stay.

The Brit almost wanted to smack him in the face for stopping when he was so close to getting his shirt unbuttoned, but again, if Alfred wanted to talk, he was there to talk. There was no other way to go. Before Alfred came back, he swore to himself that he would help him through anything he needed.

"Alright, what is it? But you owe me a good one later for this."

"Sure thing. Now listen up, do you find that Sara girl a bit suspicious? Because I do, big time. I don't feel like being around her." The young American rolled to the other side of the bed near the wall, and Arthur turned his head to look at him clearly. Glancing at him from top to bottom, he couldn't help but notice how tired Alfred looked in general. Weary eyed, too thin for his usual figure, his hair didn't look its best either, but he still looked beautiful. No matter what, he would always be beautiful to Arthur.

But this question caught him off guard. For the past week or so, he had been hanging out with Sara and Emma much more than he did with their original friend group, and he didn't notice a single odd thing about the Dutch girl. "Suspicious? Not at all. I think you're just being paranoid."

"No, I don't think so. Did you see the way she looked at Adrienne and Matthew? It's like she wants to hurt them or something."

"Sara's really sweet, Alfred. She willingly talked to me and helped me free myself a bit, and it's only been a week. I even managed to make a few conversations with some other people from their little friend circle. I doubt she'd hurt a fly." Arthur couldn't find the needle in the hay about her that Alfred was talking about, no matter how hard he tried to look back and analyze her.

Alfred didn't look satisfied with that answer, though.

There's something about her, and I'm going to find out what, no matter how hard it will be.

I need to protect my brother and my best friend.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

It was going to be difficult to adjust to student life for Alfred. In a way, he felt like he was new here again, like he was pushed back to square one and had to start all over. Except for the social part, because he was lucky to have great friends who wouldn't leave his side despite anything. But there was something haunting him in the back of his mind ever since he had made the slightest eye contact with the Dutch girl who was supposedly Emma's best friend.

There was something off about her, and Arthur didn't believe him. And that pissed him off. He hated when people didn't believe something he was sure in.

"I'm telling you, don't trust her too much. She's up to something. It isn't every day I see icy glares in people's eyes that stab through my soul. I'm usually the one who sees the positive side in people before anything else." Alfred stood in the middle of their dorm room, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer fact of Arthur being close with this girl who seemed like a fraud, and acted like someone she wasn't. She looked dangerous to him, and he had to express how he felt about her. Even if it meant holding a monologue to his roommate (and boyfriend), flailing his arms around and speaking in a voice that's more shaky than the tone he usually spoke on. He wasn't calm, he just couldn't be.

"And I'm telling you, you're just paranoid. I'm sure Sara is a great girl. You know, this may come off as hurtful, but I can't trust a guy who doesn't know real from fiction. I can't let you convince me that she's a bad person, when just a few hours ago you were released from the bloody mental hospital! I think you know where I'm coming from with this one." Arthur rolled around on the bed to face Alfred who frantically paced around the room with a worried expression plastered on his face, but as soon as the Brit said those words, the pacing stopped, and he could just stare at him. No movement. For a very long moment.

"Excuse me, but... What did you just say?" A serious tone, a lower voice, and hands on his hips as if he was a parent talking back to a child. "I'm not trustworthy anymore?"

"Alfred, you know that's not what I meant--"

"No, that is exactly what you meant. And what you said. You think you can't trust my instincts anymore because I've got a condition. How can you even say that? It's just as if I said you can't hang out with anyone at all because you're socially anxious. And did I ever even bring it up? No, of course I didn't. I actually have some fucking respect for people."

"Those aren't the same things! You can't even compare social anxiety to schizophrenia." Now Arthur was the one to get more than a little bit pissed off, but on the other hand, he couldn't blame Alfred for getting mad at his statement. Perhaps he would be insulted, too, in his place. "But it's true, Alfred. You're not as trustworthy. I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe a single thing you're saying about Sara. Though I don't feel like I need to apologize for honesty." Sitting up on his bed, he crossed his arms and glared right back at the American, who still had a face of pure shock and perplexion on his face. This was supposed to be a good day, a time to reunite with the ones he loved, he didn't plan on spending it in a fight with his lover.

In fact, he planned just the opposite.

But he couldn't let himself be treated like he was worth less just because he didn't always feel like he was in this world. That made no sense. He had already grown so sick of the voices in his own head telling him that he was a bad person and a useless human being, he wouldn't take this from other people as well. If he needed to fight back, he was going to fight back.

"I'm actually speechless right now. How could you fucking do this to me, Arthur? I thought I was something more to you! I thought you felt like I do, like we're soulmates, like we can tell each other anything, trust each other... I never thought that you'd get thrown off the lover's path just because I'm not, well, normal." With visible sadness in both his voice and his eyes, Alfred sat down at the desk chair and spun it around so he faced Arthur once again. "Do you not love me as much as I love you?"

The last sentence was a stab to Arthur's heart. Of course he loved Alfred, there was nothing that could measure or explain how deeply he felt for him, but the American needed to understand that he couldn't just go around, look into someone's eyes, and already form a delusion about how they were going to hurt their friends and family, then aimlessly pace around in anxiety spreading those news onto others. That's not how things worked around here.

"I do love you, Alfred, I--"

"Then why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're being irrational! Sara is my friend, get over it!"

Silence took over the space around them. None of them wanted to be the next one to say sometihng, because it seemed like whatever they said, the other would find a way to make it wrong.

So Alfred didn't shoot back with an insult or another reason why Sara could harm them. Instead, he quietly stood up from the desk chair and walked out of the room without a single word left behind. He didn't have to take this. He was strong, and independent, didn't need Arthur, and definitely wasn't close to crying.

Well, he was disproved by his own body on that one, since soon enough he felt tears streaming down his pale cheeks, and he kept wiping them off with the long sleeves of his grey sweater over and over again.

You made a mistake again, the voices insisted on reminded him, but he didn't feel like listening.

Arthur was stunned by the fact he was left behind in the room. Alfred walking out was the thing he expected to happen last, and yet here he was, blinking in surprise, flopping back down on his bed, the action followed by a long, exasperated sigh.

Dealing with the young American was going to be trouble, and they all knew it. But he couldn't stay at the psych unit forever, that was impossible and also inhuman of them to do to him.

"He's just a lost boy", Arthur whispered to himself, "and I hurt him. I acted like it's his fault he doesn't know what the bloody hell he's talking about."

A part of him wanted to believe what Alfred was saying, but the other ninety nine percent said how it was nearly impossible for Sara to be a bad person. Icy glares in her eyes? Something he definitely didn't notice. She helped him to free himself a little bit, promised him to help with his fear of socializing and talking to people openly, and he wanted to cling to that promise despite anything. It might have been the only help he was going to get for the tiring social phobia he had to deal with every day. Being close to Sara screamed opportunities, not danger.

He made his decision - Alfred was completely wrong about his conclusion.

But Alfred definitely didn't agree with the Brit. He was confident that something was up with that Dutch girl, and he needed proof.

As he angrily walked down the hallways of the dormitory, wallowing in his sadness and misery and a whole cocktail of emotions he couldn't name, he stopped by the dorm room he was sure belonged to Emma and Sara, perhaps to see what they were doing. The door was slightly open, it wouldn't hurt to stand there and listen to them for a second or two. Or more. As long as it takes to get something out of it. In fact, he didn't even do this to prove something to Arthur, or to win a fight. Those things mattered much less to him than his friends and family he needed to protect. He could find out something about Sara, and use it to save them.

And he was sure in for a surprise.

"Emma, we need to talk. It's serious." The nearly unrecognizable voice he now knew belonged to the Dutch girl was soft and faint, but he could understand what she was saying.

It wasn't like he was... Standing right outside of their door.

"Yeah, tell me anything." The Belgian student sounded as if she was eating something, and that theory was soon confirmed by the rustling of a bag that she threw away into the trash bin Alfred could see out of the corner of his eye from the little space of their room he had visible right in front of him.

"It might not come to you as a surprise, but I've had a huge crush on Matthew Jones for the longest time. And I really want him to be mine. Okay, it might be more than a crush. Well, I'm in love with him."

"Sara, he's engaged to Adrienne. I mean, it's okay to be in love and all, but go find a guy you can actually get. Or a girl, whatever floats your boat. I'm into both, don't know about you."

She has a crush on my brother? Alfred tried his best not to make a sound of surprise, placing a hand over his mouth for extra silence. He couldn't be caught, not now. When it involved Matthew, he needed to know how this conversation would continue. It was even more difficult to stay silent when he was still in tears, constantly clearing his face over and over again with his sleeves so it wouldn't look like he cried.

"That's why I need your help."

"To be your wingman?" Emma curiously asked.

"No, to get Matthew single." Sara insisted, leaving the Belgian in awe. The last thing she expected from long time best friend was this kind of favour. Destroying a happy relationship for her own selfish purposes.

Emma didn't agree with that, not at all. "I'm not helping you break up Adrienne and Matt just because you want him. They're so happy together, and they're my friends as well."

"You're rejecting your best friend over a girl you barely know? May I remind you who saved your life when we were on that vacation in Denmark ten years ago? Me, of course. You still don't know how to swim to this day. But you learned a lesson not to jump into the sea when it's windy. Oh, and if that isn't convincing enough for you, I'll throw in good money if you do as I say. Five grand."

The Belgian seemed cornered. She was offered money and reminded how she owed Sara a big favour ever since that day, and never returned it. If she got her to be with Matthew, that could be a huge step forward in their long lasting friendship. Sighing, she looked down, biting her lip and spending a few moments thinking about it instead of rushing straight into deciding.

"Fine. Spill the plan."

Alfred shifted a little bit closer to the door, opening it just a tad more and hoping that the girls were too busy with their evil plan to break up Matthew and Adrienne. Which he had to expose as soon as it was said.

He knew something was bad about Sara. He instantly perceived those glances towards the French Canadian girl as a threat, and he was right.

"Alright, so I was thinking a classic one. We get Matthew to think that Adrienne cheated on him." Sara started, and just that first sentence almost made Alfred fall through the door. But he had to stay calm. Nothing could make him lose concentration. "You can organize a party, you are known for that anyway so no one would find it suspicious. I stay behind while you invite everyone, including Matt and Adrienne. Nobody would notice my absence anyway, except maybe Arthur but he's too scared to say a word to people."

"And what do you do while you stay behind? If my job's just to party with the people, you don't need to pay me anything."

"I sneak into Adrienne and Matthew's dorm room, that thing is always unlocked, and so is their computer. They don't care about privacy at all, it seems. I create a fake email, and write a message to Adrienne as this mysterious guy she spent the night with. And I open her email, put the laptop on the desk because Matt and she share everything. They even read each other's text messages. When I get together with Matthew, he won't read a thing on my phone. But I will on his, of course."

Right, because that's totally normal and not manipulative at all, Alfred thought to himself, shaking his head in disbelief at the things he was hearing.

"Don't you think that's a little bit wrong--" Emma tried to explain her reasons, but she was interrupted before she could get another word out. Fair enough, she would get money for this shit anyway, she better listen to what Sara had to say.

"I'm not done yet. Then I go out to the party saying how I had projects to finish and all that stuff and join you guys, and you say you want the girls to stay a bit longer. You know, a girls' night out. Everyone believes that kind of stuff. So that you can keep Adrienne out while Matthew goes to the room first and reads the email. And he gets mad and all that leads to a breakup, because Adrienne's a filthy cheater and she has no evidence to support that she didn't spend the night with this guy. Make it that hot guy from her French Literature class."

This is so irrational, oh my goodness! She can't do that, can she? Alfred thought to himself, but he didn't realize that sometimes, he said things out loud. Things that he thought, and didn't know those thoughts were actually louder than he could perceive them.

But the realization did hit him when the door was opened, and he was suddenly making very serious eye contact with Sara's crystal blue eyes. Dammit, they were really icy. "Well, look who it is! Alfred Jones, Matthew's crazy little brother." She chuckled, but it must have been the least friendly laugh that the American had ever heard. Before he could react and save himself, he got harshly pulled into the room by his arm, and the door was slammed right behind him.

Then, he was slammed into the door. Sara had a tight grip on his sweater, and he stared at her wide eyed, scared to move, breathe, or do anything at all.

Emma watched it play out from the bed, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves out of the suffocating tension in the room. She wanted to tell Sara not to hurt him, but she kept it shut. The other was right after all, they were best friends, and best friends were always there for each other.

"You are not going to say a word about our plan to anyone, do you understand?" Sara coldly spoke to the young American, spitting the words out roughly so it made him flinch underneath her grip.

"Yes, I am! Matthew is my brother and Adrienne is my best friend, I'm telling them right this instant! Just, care to let me go?" He fought back as intensenly as he could, his body obviously shaking and a few more tears he tried his best to hold back rolling down his cheeks. Things weren't exactly looking up for him, he wanted to look strong and assertive, but the crying didn't really help.

"You're not telling them, and I'll show you why." The Dutch girl smirked, holding him tighter by his sweater. "You're schizophrenic, right?"

"Yeah, does it matter?" He retorted with a huff and tried to push her away, obviously failing with this currently non existent physical strength.

Emma almost got off the bed, her eyes widening just at Sara's question. She knew her best friend wasn't always the clearest in the mind. She knew very well how bad she could sometimes get with her anger fits which would then suddenly turn into crying, she knew everything... But she never expected her to bring up Alfred's illness into the situation. That didn't sound like her. Which meant she had to be seriously head over heels with Matthew that lead to her emotional state being more rigid and impulsive than usual. "Don't use it against him..." She wanted to shout, but it came out as a mere whisper that soon after it was spoken, disintegrated into thin air without being noticed.

"I know how to make you hallucinate again." Sara stated confidently, and Alfred paled more than ever, his face going blank. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing was coming out at first.

The Dutch girl in the fancy white dress knew that Alfred would be easily convinced not to say a word. If he was really as badly delusional as his friends and family said, then he she had him wrapped around her little finger in no time. If she was to tell him never to speak again, he'd listen.

"I'm already hearing the voices all the time! What do any of us have from that?!"

"I can make you locked in that hospital for the rest of your life. You'll hallucinate all the time worse than you ever have before. You're never going to recover if you give away my plan to Matt and Adrienne. So be a good boy and keep it shut, or else."

"That's impossible... How can you... My psychologist told me that there is no such a thing as a person who can put things in my head--"

"Your psychologist is wrong. She didn't meet me yet." Sara chuckled as she had a clear view of Alfred's horrified face, his darkened blue eyes filled to the brim with tears he tried to hold back - he succeeded, for a change.

Alfred didn't want to believe her. He really didn't. He wished he had the ability to just push her away and immediately run over to his friends to share their evil plan, but instead of being the hero he always wanted to be for people, he stood frozen in place, paralyzed by the thought of Sara being the one poisoning his thoughts with irrationality, pulling him into the spiral of existential thought and dragging him far across the line that separated reality and fiction. He had this firm delusion that there was a person somewhere in the world that put the thoughts into his brain, but once Emilia explained to him that was impossible, he kind of believed her.

What if Emilia was wrong?

"I'm-- I..." He tried to get another word out, but he simply couldn't. He was scared. And suddenly, a dilemma was created - to save his friends or to save himself?

He never worked for his selfishness before. Helping was something he always loved doing. But on the other hand, this was serious. Sara could get him taken away, couldn't she?

...Could she?

"Are you done stuttering?" She rolled her eyes impatiently, releasing her hold on him, after which he almost fell to the floor. It was unexpected, and she was pretty strong after all. "Let's review what we learned. No more eavesdropping, and you're not saying a single thing. Do you understand?"

Instead of protesting, demanding freedom, or finding other solutions to the problem, Alfred just fearfully nodded a couple of times and agreed with every word Sara said. He didn't have it in him to fight anymore that day. It was enough that he was angered by Arthur.

"I understand." He whispered, still as scared as ever, biting his lip and fidgeting with the sleeves of his grey sweater. "Please, don't hurt me. I won't say a word."

"Good." Sara said in satisfaction, opening the door which Alfred instantly took as a sign to leave (and never come back, that was a fair addition).

Both Alfred and Emma were in shock, perhaps equally, perhaps one of them was more. It didn't really matter at the moment, though.

As soon as Alfred heard the door close behind him, he burst into tears once again, regretting to ever eavesdrop on the two. He had proof, but he couldn't use it. And he never had a worse dilemma in his life.

To help Matthew and Adrienne and prevent the biggest fight of their life that could end their relationship, or save himself from ending up at the psych ward until the end of his days?

Maybe this one time, I could keep my mouth shut.

And hey, maybe Sara doesn't go through with the plan anyway?  
Ah, who am I kidding, she will. She seems obsessively in love with Matthew, jealous of Adrienne, and she's definitely not on the normal side. I'd know, I'm not either.

Emilia told me to look at the positive side of everything, but is there a positive to this?

Perhaps I'm blind, but I can't see it.

Nevertheless, I'm keeping it shut.

I have to.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

A week before the end of college

And also a week since Alfred had finally returned to college life, living in the dorm with Arthur and slowly adjusting himself to the work and the classes he missed over the course of one month, the lengthy absence of his. Things hadn't been the same since he came back, though. He had to bear a secret on his chest and take it to his grave, which made him even more paranoid than he was when he first returned. Just the fact that he could blurt it out around his friends, especially when Sara was around, it made his head feel heavy and made it impossible for him to speak and say everything he wanted to say. Instead of being open and wearing his emotions on his sleeve like he used to, he tried keeping everything to himself, a new tactic he hadn't used before. Which kind of lead to him being more isolated than usual. Afraid to speak to the ones closest to him, he only said things when they asked him to. Other times, he kept his head down and went from class to class in silence, barely mustering up the courage to ask Arthur for notes in English he missed.

Between the two of them, the situation was quite neutral since that fight which made Alfred storm out of the room a week ago. They had to live together after all, so having a conflict would be pretty inconvenient. But neither of them forgot what they said to each other, especially Alfred who still couldn't believe that Arthur didn't trust him anymore just because he was different, like the Brit would nicely put it. His biggest fear was always that he would be unreliable, useless, unworthy, and now it was happening. What made it even worse was that it was coming from the person he considered his soulmate. He thought that the universe had a good reason to bring them together and make them fall in love instantly, and he wanted to follow it.

Yet he had to admit to himself, they were drifting apart a bit.

He drifted from everyone, shut himself out and spent more time in his corner of the room painting than hanging out with friends. Only when Adrienne or Elizabeta would drag him out of the room, then he'd hang out with them. It was never willingly anymore.

It was like the whole world felt heavy on his shoulders, and he wanted to let it crush him instead of holding it up.

But Alfred and Arthur weren't the only couple who had it complicated lately. His older brother Matthew and his supposedly future wife Adrienne took a turn towards a rough path as well, fighting more and more often, despite Elizabeta who tried to be their peacekeeper. She kind of failed at her job, since they couldn't stop finding things to bicker about. Whether it was when to start a family, to set a wedding date, to organize the wedding party, when the topic of their future together was brought up, it almost always resulted in a conflict.

Matthew simply wasn't ready yet, with everything happening to Alfred and the realisation he had unresolved, repressed feelings he needed to work on, it just wasn't the right time to plan something as big and important as a wedding. Adrienne, on the other hand, thought it would be the best for them to do it as early as possible, to get together as a married couple at last and turn a new page in the book of love and life they were writing together. She wanted to get away from the world as she knew it, and be with the love of her life. With no one else to get in their way.

Despite the ocean of emotion they were all swimming in and struggled to stay afloat, they still somehow managed to stick together. Every single one of them.

Alfred, Arthur, Adrienne, Matthew, Elizabeta, Gilbert, Emma and Sara, who was wanted there by everyone in the group besides Alfred. Not that he'd actually say that out loud ever since she threatened to ruin his entire life.

"Guys, who's up for a party tonight?"

As they hung out in the cafeteria together chatting their problems away (except Alfred, who was there against his will, silently sitting in the corner and sipping some tea, Emma proposed an idea. A party, something she was famous for organising. Everyone in the room instantly agreed, only the American felt his heart drop to his stomach. He could prevent this right now, but he couldn't. Being cornered and incapable made him feel worse than anything ever did. Even the voices in his head were on his subconsciousness' side, telling him to say it, to expose their plan, but he couldn't listen. He was paralyzed in his seat.

"Sounds like an awesome idea! I need to get wasted tonight, haven't done it in a while." Gilbert laughed loudly, and even Elizabeta agreed instead of telling him he should cut down on the drinking.

"I'm up for it. I need a break from work." Matthew shrugged, looking over to Alfred and wondering why he hadn't enthusiastically agreed yet. Well, he blamed the younger's horrified face on his paranoia, nothing else.

"And we need a break from being at each other's throats." Adrienne agreed, and that meant now everyone had a positive response, even Arthur, the most introverted of them all. And probably the only real introvert.

Except Sara. And Alfred, because he was the only one to know that would happen.

"I actually have a lot of work to do tonight, but I might join you guys later. After the guys leave, the four of us could have a girls' night out." The Dutch girl glanced around at the Hungarian and the Canadian girl, and also her best friend Emma. No one had a single word against it. And of course they didn't, all of this sounded like a brilliant plan for a group of hard working college kids who needed to take a break.

"Alfred? You comin' along tonight?" Emma asked him, knowing all too well they needed to get him out of the dormitory. He knew too much. It was just like in sci-fi films, in which that one character who knows the top secret information needs to be eliminated. Except they couldn't kill Alfred, they just had to get him to go outside to a party.

The American blinked a few times, snapping out of thought, making eye contact with Sara before he did with Emma. And after the Dutch girl threw him a knowing glare, he couldn't refuse. "Oh, right... Yeah, of course I'm coming." He said with obvious uncertainty in his voice, but they all took it as a sign of agreement.

"Then it's a deal!"

"It's a deal!"

I can stop it from happening right now, Alfred told himself, but he just couldn't. But again, I don't want my whole life ruined.

Maybe Matthew will be reasonable about it when it happens.

There's always that tiny bit of hope that things will turn out fine. I'll hold onto that.

\- - -

"What should I wear to the party?"

 

A couple of hours later, as they were together - only the two of them - in the dormitory, Arthur asked Alfred simply because he wanted to get him to talk. He was awfully silent that afternoon, even more than usually, not saying a single word even to himself as he painted something that, to Arthur, looked like a cave in the middle of the sky. But who knew.

Alfred glanced sideways at the Brit only on a second, immediately getting back to the artwork. "Uh... Wear clothes." He muttered, obviously not giving the answer much thought.

"Come on, why are you so negative? Look at the bright side, Sara isn't coming. You must be happy at least about that." Arthur rolled his eyes in annoyance, wishing that Alfred would just come out of his own little cave and talk to him like a normal person. At this point, the American sounded like him when meeting new people.

That's exactly why I'm worried, Alfred wanted to respond, but instead kept it shut rather than saying anything.

"Alfred." Arthur insisted. The name was spoken in a low, serious tone. "Did you forget to take your medication or something--"

"I took it, alright? I'm super happy, everything is fucking sunshine and rainbows, now leave me alone! Wear whatever you want to the stupid party!"

It usually took him much more to snap, but not tonight. The boiling tension strolling through his blood and around his heart was too high. He could feel it pulsing in the form of a headache, along with the heaviness in his chest and in his stomach. Shouting at Arthur, he found himself intensely shaking, especially in his hands, and standing without any other movement as he glared at the Englishman, his lips pursed, and eyes focused on the other. It was obvious by the rapid movements of his chest that his heartbeat was increased, and that he was anxious over the borders.

Arthur stared in shock at him for a moment, before wordlessly turning around with a long sigh, picking out the clothing from the wardrobe by himself. He didn't think he went too far, but he couldn't blame Alfred anyway. The boy was going through a lot.

Then why did a part of him put the blame on Alfred, despite what he consciously thought?

Feelings were strange and overwhelming, and they both wished they didn't have them. But they did. The only thing left for them to do was learn to control them.

And to some of them, that a task more difficult to achieve.

In the end, Arthur decided by himself on wearing red plaid shirt and dark blue trousers, while Alfred put on the first things that fell out of the closet and onto the floor. Which was a black hoodie with a picture of a red rose imprinted on the front and bordeaux jeans he didn't even know he owned until now. Lucky combination, since it fit him greatly. He didn't even bother fixing up his hair, unlike Arthur who looked as if he spent half a bottle of hair gel on whatever he was going for there.

"How do I look?" The Brit asked him before they left the room.

Alfred looked at him a couple of times, top to bottom, and he didn't want to admit that he indeed looked goddamn attractive. He was never the one to give compliments right after being angry and silent for a while.

"You look... Really gay." He said instead, leaving the other in a flustered mess with no more time to pick out a different set of clothing.

At least making Arthur intensely blush gave him some sense of satisfaction.

In the hallway, they met the rest of their friend group who was all dressed up and ready to party - Emma in a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, Elizabeta in a short dark green skirt and short sleeved grey t-shirt, Gilbert and Matthew who didn't quite dress up as much as they worked on their hairstyles, and of course, Adrienne, who always knew what to wear and how to wear it. She had a light blue dress that just reached a bit under her knees, a beautiful sky colour that made her eyes really stand out. Unlike the Hungarian and the Belgian who let their hair fall all over their shoulders, she fixed her hair up in a chignon. And she looked wonderful, Matthew couldn't stop looking at her.

"Is everyone ready to fuckin' party?" Gilbert said with quite a lot of enthusiasm in his voice, but without any surprise, they all replied with the same amount of passion. Well, everyone besides Alfred who was just there because if he stayed, he'd most likely end up strangled by a certain Dutchwoman.

"Remember, Alfred, it's party at the disco, not panic at the disco." Arthur whispered over to him with a smirk playing on his lips, and Alfred only scoffed and shot him a glare. He knew nothing. Nobody knew anything.

And it was his fault they didn't know.

Sara watched them leave down the stairs, observing them from the room she shared with Emma, just waiting for the right moment when they go out of her sight. And the same second they did, she left the room and locked it behind her, walking over to the place shared by Adrienne and Matthew. She didn't have to be silent, yet she still did. It was just an effect of feeling sneaky and doing things that a normal person would probably regret or wouldn't do at all.

Opening the door to their room, she grinned to herself at the victory - it was unlocked, just like she thought it would be.

"Time to end a relationship." She chuckled to herself, and immediately went over to Adrienne's laptop, placing it on the desk and quickly opening her email. Of course she wasn't logged out. What was privacy to the two of them anyway?

Lucky for her, obviously.

From her phone, she created a false email under the name of Nicholas Cartwright, the best looking guy in French Literature class which Adrienne attended daily. He was the perfect one for this, even glanced at the Canadian girl once in a while until Matthew came into the picture. Then he'd pretend that nothing happened, averting his gaze back to the work he was doing. That was also going in Sara's favour - if Nicholas was asked whether the email was true or not, he'd have too much pride to refuse the opportunity to brag that he spent the night with Adrienne Bonnefoy.

Sara was prepared like she never was before. She knew exactly what to type out for it to be perfect, and of course, believable.

'Dear Adrienne,

I had so much fun last night. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on, and certainly the most passionate, if you know what I mean.

If we could get together again, it'd be amazing. I want to have you close to me at least one more time before we both take different directions in life.

-Nicholas'

And... send.

That was it, no turning back. Well, except she could always delete the email from Adrienne's computer, put the laptop back in place and pretend like nothing happened, but she'd never do that. This would definitely work, and Matthew Jones would soon be hers.

"Now it's time to party."


	30. Chapter Thirty

Girls' night out seemed like a fantastic idea, one that struck suspicion in nobody's heart. Everybody agreed that it was a great thing to do, for Emma, Elizabeta, Adrienne and Sara to have their bonding time together after the boys returned home. Only Alfred was the hesitant one to leave. If there wasn't for Sara who appeared in her usual flashy white dress and made him fear for his life, he would refuse to go home.

Now, he had to walk alongside Matthew and know the entire time that he would walk into a hazard as soon as he stepped into that room and sat by the computer.

They wanted to say goodbye to each other and separate, each going their own ways - Arthur and Alfred to their room, Gilbert to his and Matthew to his while their girls hung out at the disco. But the younger American didn't want to leave his brother's side. He insisted to stay with him, go to the cafeteria, even though it was already really late in the evening, they were all tired and worn out from the party. In fact, their minds were a slight bit hazy from the few shots they took. Of alcohol, that was understandable.

"Please, I want to stay with you--" If the fight was already inevitable, he didn't want it to happen yet. He wanted Matthew away from that damn computer for as long as he could.

"Alfred, you're acting really strange tonight. Is everything okay?" Matthew asked in a caring tone, placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder as the other looked so scared, his pupils nearly dilated. Just like he was having a panic attack, or even worse, a psychotic attack. Only now, he wasn't. He just wanted to save his brother's relationship for a bit more time.

"I want to... Talk to you, or anything!" He said in a panicked tone of voice, making both Arthur and Matthew nervous. Something was clearly wrong, they just didn't know what. Gilbert, on the other hand, kind of found it hilarious. But that was probably just the beer talking.

"I'm really tired, and I have some more work to finish as well... Can't you talk to Arthur tonight?"

"You can't do work!" Alfred almost shouted, grabbing the other by his arms - of course, it wasn't too tightly, but Matthew still felt the need to shake him off and take a step back.

"Yes, I can, and I have to! I think you need to take it down a few. Nothing bad is going to happen to me if I work."

It will, you are going to be angry, you'll think Adrienne cheated on you, why can't you just listen to me and stay with me instead of going into that cursed room?!

Alfred couldn't say another word. Instead of fighting back and trying to convince Matthew even further to stay back, he stood there in silence for a longer moment, before turning away, running off upstairs in the direction of the cafeteria without waiting up for anyone to follow him.

Luckily, no one did, because he had a call to make.

And that call was to Emilia Steilsson. She was the only one who knew how to properly help him deal with this emotional burden he had to carry. She was definitely going to tell him what to do. Closing the glass door of the cafeteria behind him as he nearly flew in, he took the cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and dialed the number once, twice, three times... She wasn't answering.

Goddammit, why wasn't she answering?!

He had no more time. Adrienne would be back any moment, and the spark would turn into a flame. And then into a wildfire, which would eventually lead to the two of them breaking off their engagement.

This wasn't right, not at all, but he felt so helpless, so powerless.

"God, I know I don't believe in you, but give my brother peace, let him understand, please let a miracle happen. Don't let Sara get her way." Looking up to the ceiling as if it was the sky, he whispered as a prayer, despite being an atheist, because sometimes it was the last resort he'd go to if nothing else was working. "If you do, then I might just start believing."

And right now, literally nothing was working at all.

He could hear girls' laughter coming from the floor below, which meant they were back, which ultimately lead to Adrienne facing off Matthew, who definitely already read that email. All because Alfred didn't tell, all because Alfred had no strength to keep him away from the room.

As the French Canadian girl chuckled to her friends, saying goodbye as they parted, Elizabeta latching onto her and hugging her like never, obviously a little bit wasted, she then proceeded to walk down the hallway to her dorm room. The one she shared with Matthew. Alfred couldn't see it from the floor above, but he could feel it. Deep within his body, and he started trembling, his breathing going rapid as he knew what was going to happen next.

Matthew didn't await her happily at the door, that was for sure.

Adrienne expected to see him doing work at the laptop, or sleeping, or even aimlessly scrolling his phone on the bed. But the last thing she expected to see once she got home was Matthew Jones, the love of her life, furiously standing at the doorstep, his arms crossed and his face stained in tears, his eyes showing mixed emotions that she couldn't quite read.

"Are you alright?" That was the first thing she asked, and as she wanted to embrace him into a hug like she always did when he seemed to be in emotional distress, he slapped her hand away, and she could feel her heart shatter into a million pieces. He had never done that before. That meant something horrible had to happen, and she was included in it. "Why'd you do that--" She tried to ask patiently, but he interrupted her before she could get another word out.

"How could you, Adrienne?" He asked with devastation in the tone of his voice.

And she had never been more confused. "Uh... What exactly did I do?"

Instead of answering with words, he just pointed to the computer, and she walked over to read the open tab which was, apparently, her email. She read it through, and every word made her even more perplexed.

"I can't believe you were with Nicholas Cartwright! I knew that guy had something up his sleeve, but I had no fucking clue you'd actually go along with him!" Matthew started shouting, this was the loudest and the angriest he had ever been, and the voice echoed through the room, making Adrienne suddenly feel so small, so lost, with nothing to say back.

"But I didn't!" She shouted back in disbelief. "I swear, I'd never do that to you... I love you!"

"Oh, I'm sure you do", Matthew spat out sarcastically, scoffing and wiping off more oncoming tears before they could be seen. "This is your way of getting back at me for all the fights we've had lately, huh?"

She had no idea how to disprove this email. Where did it even come from? Why would Nicholas send it to her if they didn't actually sleep together? Everything was confusing her, and Matthew's voice of fury didn't really help her case. "Please believe me, it's not like that..." It was all she was able to say, but her voice was weak and shaky, trembling just like she was. "Matthew, I want to start a family with you, I want to spend my life with you, I'd never cheat on you!"

"How am I supposed to believe it? Do you have any proof?"

"I... I hoped my words were enough to prove..." She felt a wave of sadness mixed with anxiety wash over her, and next thing she knew was that tears hysterically streamed down her cheeks, she tried her best not to sob out loud. And she had no sleeves to wipe them away with. So they just kept falling, she kept crying, attempting to form a coherent sentence that would make sense and make Matthew believe she wasn't a cheater. But she only stumbled across her words, resulting in meaningless stuttering he didn't even want to listen to. "I'm sorry... I didn't-- Believe, I-I didn't... I love you..."

"You're sorry?" The American retorted, shaking his head in disbelief at what was happening. "That means you acknowledge that it really happened, and you realized you've made a mistake. At least that's how it looks to me."

"No! Oh god, no!" She desperately tried to convince him, yet it wasn't working.

She didn't even mess up, she did absolutely nothing. Someone was trying to set her up with the email, though there was a small chance Matthew would believe that. It was true, guys did want her. At least half of the goddamn class did. And she only wanted Matthew. No one else. It was against her morals to cheat, she found it repulsive and disgusting, to cheat on the one she loved the most. To let someone else feel the love, lust and passion she held inside. That just wasn't how her world worked.

"Adrienne..." He sighed, running both his hands through his hair, unable to even muster up the courage to say the next words. At least that's how he felt on the inside. But his mouth worked faster than his brain, and the sentence just slipped out of him before he even knew it. "I'm done with you."

"Matthew, please..." She choked out the words through sobs, hoping he'd reply by taking back the words. Instead, he took off the engagement ring, putting it neatly on the desk as he stared at her without another thing said.

So she turned around and ran out, thinking of nothing else to do. She ran with all she had, up the stairs and to the cafeteria because she knew it was empty, she knew nobody ever spent their time in it after ten in the evening. But apparently this time, the lights were still on, and as she opened the glass door with the last remaining force in her body, she found Alfred aggressively clicking on his phone, shaking and crying, trying to call someone. But it would appear that the person he tried to get on the line wasn't answering.

"Alfred?" Adrienne asked in confusion, sniffling a couple of times and trying to hide the fact she was crying. But it was obvious to both him and her, she failed.

He knew she would cry anyway.

Getting caught off guard wasn't the nicest of experiences. Especially to Alfred, who was already paranoid enough, caught up in this world of stress, anxiety and secrets difficult to keep. When Adrienne looked at him, wearing the most devastated expression her face, he knew it happened. Matthew left her.

"I could have prevented it..." He whispered out loud, and she heard.

"What?" She asked in shock.

"I'm so sorry, Adrienne." Petrified to say anything else, Alfred tried to run past her to escape the cafeteria before she would ask for an explanation for these confusing words of his, but she caught him by the hand with all the strength she had, making him stop in his tracks and turn to her in fear.

Well, he might have fucked up a little by not telling her.

"Did you know about this? Were you the one to send that email?" She didn't know whether to shout at him, scream at the universe or at herself, she just wanted to wake up next to Matthew and realize it was all just a horrible nightmare.

"No... I didn't." Alfred looked down, fighting her tight grip on his wrist. "But I know who did."

"Then tell me! For god's sake, Matthew just broke our engagement, and you knew it would happen all along?" Of course it wasn't Alfred's fault, the rational part of her thought. After all, he was just really lost in this world at the moment, how could anyone blame him for anything? But she wanted to hear his side of the story, what stopped him from telling.

He took a deep breath, averting his gaze back to her. "If I say it out loud, I might get cursed." His voice might have been shakier than hers, if nothing, they were near equal. Only he sounded more like a frightened child, and her tone was mixed with sadness and anger and everything bad one could think of.

As soon as he said that sentence, Adrienne aligned some pieces together in her mind. Her eyes widened at the thought, and for a brief moment, she forgot how to speak. And then she asked the question he dreaded. "Alfred... Did someone blackmail you?"

After he nodded fearfully, she needed to know more. "Yes." A faint whisper escaped him.

"I assure you, whoever said was going to curse you, they won't. That's not naturally possible. Now tell me, I need to know, we need to prove to Matthew that I'm not some kind of filthy cheater!"

So he told her, despite not believing her words that it was impossible for him to get cursed. The whole story from a to z - how he saw something in Sara's eyes that made him question her, said that to Arthur, how he didn't believe him and he wanted to prove to him she was a bad person. He told her how he eavesdropped on Emma and Sara while the Dutch girl was making her evil plan to destroy their relationship because she wanted to get her hands on Matthew, and how he got caught overhearing and she blackmailed him into telling him she'd make him psychotic for the rest of his life if he said a word to anyone.

Adrienne couldn't believe this was real. And she hated the fact that Alfred was innocently involved in this involuntarily, she absolutely detested how he got involved without meaning to. The thing that angered her more than anything was that Sara used his illness against him. She made him even more paranoid than he already was with the effect of his psychotic delusions.

"Oh my goodness." That was her only reaction, and it sounded more like a statement than words of shock.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before it happened." He muttered apologetically, but all she did was hug him - he expected to be shouted out, he thought she'd never want to speak to him again. Instead, he was tightly embraced by her, and they both cried their hearts out into each other's shoulders.

Best friends never leave each other's sides no matter what happens.

"It's not your fault." She took a shivery breath. "But it isn't mine either, we need to go tell Matthew what happened before Sara finds out he's suddenly single and gets her filthy hands on him!"

"That sounds like a plan." Alfred blinked a few times as he was released from the tight hug, and Adrienne could only chuckle through her sadness.

The situation could be resolved, after all. She didn't lose Matthew, and that was the most important thing after all. Except that Sara needed to get kicked where it hurt the most. Out of their friend circle.

Adrienne and Alfred hurried downstairs as quick as they could - by now, there was a commotion caused in their hallway, every single one of their friends was there, except Gilbert who was already passed out in his room. Arthur was standing in disbelief, Emma and Sara put their acting faces on and shockingly read as he showed them the email in tears, the Dutch girl comforting him with her hand on his shoulder. Elizabeta didn't quite buy it, though. Adrienne wouldn't do such a thing in a million years, and she knew that well.

As they noticed the two of them approaching the group, Matthew turned away, he couldn't bear to look her in the eyes, but Elizabeta instantly knew by the looks on both Alfred's and her face - they brought news.

Sara glanced at the younger American wide eyed, but he didn't fear her glares or her icy eyes. Instead, he glared back.

"Get your hands off my future husband!" The French Canadian shouted at Sara, and Matthew looked at her with rejection and disbelief on his face. He had just broken up with her, she cheated on him, why was she there, fighting off another girl and telling her to leave him alone?

"He's single now, Adri. Go spend the night with Nicholas." Sara scoffed, rolling her eyes with a smirk in the corner of her lips.

"He's going to be single only for the next ten seconds, Sara. Do as Adrienne says." Alfred crossed his arms, for the first time attempting to look assertive and accomplishing the task at least a little, mostly because of the tone of his voice. He was still the second shortest out of them, only taller than Arthur. But he did currently look the smallest.

"You wouldn't dare." She shot back.

"Wouldn't dare what?" Matthew asked everybody in confusion.

"I fucking knew something was up with her." Elizabeta whispered under her breath, immediately taking on a battle stance next to Alfred. She believed her best friends more than this girl who integrated herself into the group over Arthur, and deceiving him into being a beautiful person who'd help him make more friends. She just wanted to get close to Matthew, didn't she?

"Adrienne didn't cheat on you, Matt." Alfred sighed, approaching his brother with an exasperated look in his usually crystal blue eyes now darkened by the tears. "Sara sent a fake email so it would look like Nicholas sent it because she's in love with you and wanted you to break up with Adri. I knew this, but I was blackmailed into not telling anyone. Basically, she said she'd ruin my whole life. And you know me... I believe things too easily." He finished, letting out another exhale. "It's alright, you can be mad at me all you want. Just take Adrienne back, that's all I'm asking. Oh, and, the party was fake, too. It was just a way of getting you away from the room so she could sneak in and get onto your computer. You guys should start locking the door for real now."

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, listened to every word of Alfred's from the side. So Alfred was... Right. About Sara. And he called him untrustworthy, told him he wasn't reliable anymore. When in reality, he was still the most highly intuitive out of them, the one most attuned to what other people felt and even thought, if he could read them like an open book by looking into their eyes.

He had to apologize as soon as they had their alone time again.

"Sara, is this true?" Matthew looked at her, now he was the one in shock, and as much as Sara tried to deny it, Emma silently nodded and mouthed 'yes' right next to her. Best friends or not, what Sara did was fully immoral. "I can't fucking believe this."

"I think none of us can." Arthur mumbled, and he was overheard by Alfred who just turned around, throwing him a small, shy smile. Just a sign to tell him he was alright, that it understandable how he didn't believe him about Sara. Only now, he was right and everyone knew it.

Being right felt great.

"So, do we have the happy couple back or what?" Elizabeta couldn't help but ask, just wishing for Matthew and Adrienne to go back how they were before the incident occured.

"Not only are we definitely back together, but I'm sure our relationship was never stronger than it is now." The older Jones brother chuckled a little, momentarily forgetting about how angry he was at Sara as soon as he saw Adrienne still in tears on the side. "O-of course, if Adrienne takes me back. I was overdramatic, I swear it'll never happen again." He approached her, taking her by the hand a bit hesitantly until he saw she was responding more eagerly.

"Damn right I do", she laughed through the tears, hugging him as tight as she could. And he did the same. "We were never even apart."

"I smell an opportunity for a group hug." Elizabeta said, and none of them could disagree. Arthur and Alfred immediately joined them after hugging each other for a second as well. For a long time, they hadn't felt this unity in their group. This was just the proof that despite the obstacles, the fights, anything they went through, they always had each other's backs.

Sara and Emma stood on the side.

The Dutch girl had her arms crossed, and she stared at the happy couple, wondering where it all went wrong. Was she not convincing enough with Alfred? Was the plan badly executed?

"You can't break true love, Sara." Emma patted her shoulder in fake sympathy, but it didn't take her long before she joined the group hug with the others. She didn't feel like she wanted to have such a manipulative friend like Sara. And sure, she agreed to be part of the plan, but at the end of the day, she didn't want to do it. She was cornered, but now the regret was higher than anything.

That's what friendships are for. Helping each other out, and other people as well. Not manipulating them into feeling bad, doing things they don't want to, and breaking up people who were meant to be together.

There is a big difference between caring for oneself, and being selfish.

Real selfishness is always chastised in the end.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

The next morning, Alfred was woken up by the loud ringing of his mobile phone coming all the way from the desk, which meant he had no choice but to drowsily climb down and walk over to the device and answer it, since it could have been an important call. In fact, he was awaiting a call from Emilia Steilsson, he just didn't expect it to be so early in the morning.

Arthur wasn't very happy to have his sleep interrupted, but he only showed his annoyance by groaning, turning around and covering his head with the blanket. There was no way anyone was getting him out of bed for three days after that party last night and all the life draining drama that happened later. And, he felt betrayed in a way, as well. By Sara, who he trusted like a friend, despite what Alfred was telling him. The Brit would never admit it in a million years, but there was some guilt hiding inside of him that chased him like a wild animal to apologize to Alfred and convince him he was trustworthy. But again, he didn't want to say sorry. It was conflicting, and just made it harder for him to fall asleep once he was woken up by the sound. It was the first thought to pop into his head this morning.

Almost falling onto the floor from the dizziness and the sudden getting up, Alfred managed to pick up the phone. Thank goodness, it was Emilia.

Since he had no intentions of making Arthur mad once again, he silently left the room and whispered a 'hello', and once the door was closed behind him and he was safely in the hallway, he could talk.

Phone conversations started to get difficult, and he almost forgot how hard it would be to hear the other person when he barely heard his own mind over the jumbled up speech of the voices. It was much easier talking in person, where he could read body language, expressions and somehow intuitively guess what the person would say next. But with phones, it was nearly impossible. And he didn't quite expect that.

"Hey, hope I didn't wake you up or anything... I had twenty missed calls from you last night, is everything okay?" Emilia's soft voice made its way to Alfred, and it took him a couple of seconds to collect the words so he could answer.

"Yeah, yeah, it was just... Well, I'd love to talk about it in person, if it's possible in any way." He said nervously, his hands getting fidgety from the sudden wave of anxiety that the phone call was causing him.

"I'm about to get to work, but I guess I have some time to discuss things. Meet me around the corner from the hospital in front of that Dunkin' Donuts place in fifteen minutes."

Alfred looked up to the ceiling in confusion, almost if he was looking for her words written on it. It wouldn't be surprising to him if he saw them there, anyway. Once he understood them and connected where she wanted them to meet, he agreed without hesitation and soon the two of them ended the conversation. Thankfully for Alfred, since phones seemed to get harder than rocket science.

He wondered how come she wasn't at work yet, but when he checked the time and saw it was only nearing six AM, it seemed pretty understandable.

"Alright, what do I usually do in the morning?" Standing a bit spaced out, head in the clouds for a good minute as he tried to figure out what to do next. Sometimes he had these weird flashes that reminded him slightly of derealization - not being able to open his eyes wide enough to see the world around him, everything felt unrealistic and the space around him was blurry - except that's not what it was. It was the fact he was most probably never going to be fully healthy again, and the medication couldn't make him magically heal. It just kept him a bit on the sane side, what they would call. "Oh, I know. I take my meds, I get dressed, I go to the bathroom, and I get coffee. That sounds reasonable."

So that's exactly what he did, despite his mind not being fully there. He was going to meet Emilia soon, and everything would be better.

Going back to the room, he went over to the desk drawers and took out a medium sized box of antipsychotics, and after quickly gulping down a small white pill with some water, he headed towards the wardrobe to put something random on just so he wasn't in pyjamas. Wearing grey sweatpants and a black Sleeping at Last t-shirt with lyrics on it - 'How rare and beautiful it is to even exist', the words he used to live by, he hurried down the stairs of the dormitory and was outside in a couple of minutes, skipping the coffee part of his morning routine.

He was lucky that the hospital wasn't far away from college, and the place they were going to meet at was even closer. Approaching the Dunkin' Donuts restaurant he didn't even know they had up until now, he spotted a familiar silver haired girl in a dark blue uniform waiting just around the corner from it. It was no one else but Emilia Steilsson.

"Alfred!" She happily greeted him, glancing at him from the bottom to the top just to assure he was fine. He looked as if he was brought down here by a river - a mess of a human being, but that was alright. Everyone's like that in the morning, except of those rare species who actually enjoy being alive in mornings. But those are almost nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they've gone extinct, or realized that mornings are a horrible time to live and smile. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing just fine." The American shrugged, chuckling a bit at himself and how he looked as if he just walked out of a nuclear shelter after hiding for seven years. He didn't have time to fix his hair, and it looked like a mess already, he had the most careless clothing on, something he wore when he was feeling extremely lazy and not picky at all. "Okay, I lied. I'm dying inside."

Emilia couldn't help but laugh a little, but she sincerely felt bad for him. "Has anything changed at all?" She had to ask, hoping for at least something, such as him not wanting to disappear from the face of the world as much as he wanted to while she was taking care of him. That itself would be a big step forward.

"The only thing that changed is that now, I keep my feelings to myself more than I used to. I'm slowly learning to hide those moments when I'm hallucinating really badly or when I'm hearing voices. I brush them off and pretend I'm following my lessons or being productive, while in reality I'm in a different dimension. But the bad thing about hiding away is that I've started to isolate from my friends a little. I only go out when I'm forced to. Every other moment, I'm in the corner of my room painting and fighting the unbearable noises with headphones and some loud music." His eyes moved around while he was speaking, which was genuinely natural for him, but today it was more expressive than usual. As if he was really searching for answers and connections in his surroundings. Though Emilia formed a theory that it might be because he was slowly learning to stay alert at all times because of the paranoid thoughts that made him look around and search for potential sources of danger at any given moment. And at times when the fear was intensified, or inflated because of some other happening or feeling of anxiety, the eye movements would get more frantic and he would turn around more to see if someone was really following him, or if it was only an imaginary voice and an unreal sensory experience that wasn't truly there.

Emilia observed the little movements as he spoke about how he felt since he returned to college life, trying to focus on those rather than the fact she was still madly in love with him despite anything. She was glad that it wasn't affecting her as much as it used to, but as soon as she saw him again, that wave of affection and love washed over her just as it did before.

But she hoped that her love life would soon be nowhere near as hurtful as it seemed right now. She wanted to smooth things out with Lovisa after the other confessed she liked her as more than a friend, so she decided to try it out. Experiment, at least. And she was going to tell her that today at work.  
Even though Emilia was always very sure in the fact that she only liked guys, why not look for other possibilities? She didn't know until she tried. Perhaps she would fall in love with Lovisa in the end, or break her heart - the latter seemed very repulsive, but what had to be done, had to be done.

"Why do you feel like you need to hide your feelings in the first place?" She curiously asked, both because she cared and because she needed a distraction from the thoughts about love that nagged her from the back of her mind.

Alfred sighed, leaning against the wall of the building just like Emilia did when she first saw her as he arrived. They didn't have the time to actually sit and get coffee, but they wanted to talk nonetheless. Even if it meant standing around the corner of an actual restaurant (or cafe, they weren't exactly sure what it was). "I don't want to cause trouble. Matthew and Adrienne have had it rough recently, and that's kind of why you had twenty missed calls last night. Some girl tried to split them up because she wants to be with him. And I overheard her plan, got blackmailed not to tell and all that good shit. You know how I can get when I'm really fucking scared."

"That sounds bad." She commented, looking at the ground without knowing what else to say. "But you survived, that's good news... Right?"

"Debatable." Alfred answered, laughing at himself once again. Just like he always did. "I told you, nothing has changed about the way I feel about myself, and life, and everything else. I'm this close to dropping out of college despite that I don't want to." He gestured with his hands as he spoke, and that was what made Emilia feel even worse about what he had to go through.

Wanting or feeling like he had to quit working on something he dreamed about was the most horrible emotion of them all.

She wished that she could get him out of this black hole that he was being pulled into every waking moment of his life. But that was nearly impossible. It would take a lot more than one meeting around the corner of a dusty old building.

"You know, if you feel like you're not capable of staying in the dormitory over the summer, you can--"

"Not a chance, Emilia. I'm not going back to the hospital. Especially not for so long." Alfred put both his hands up in the air in defense before she could even finish that sentence. He knew too well how it would end. And he couldn't let it happen.

"I thought you might react like that..." She didn't have anything against his reaction - it was as normal as it could get. No patient wanted to go back to such a dreadful place as a hospital, whether it was a psychiatric unit or anything else. It always made people scared. "But are you sure you're going to be able to keep going with Matthew and Adrienne being away and all that stuff? Alfred, they're moving and starting a family, it's a big deal both for them and for you."

"It's gonna be hard, but I've got Arthur." He fought back with his own arguments, although this one didn't come out with as much confidence as he wanted. It was because he and Arthur weren't always on the best terms. Sure, they were in a relationship, but it seemed a bit dysfunctional from time to time. Arthur wasn't the most supportive and understanding of other people's feelings, and Alfred needed all the support he could get. "And I've got my friends." This statement seemed stronger, and it was the one he believed in more.

Emilia noticed how his voice acted a bit shaky and unsure as the first sentence was spoken, which made her wonder about it. Sometimes, she could overthink, but most of the times, her intuition was correct. "Is everything alright with you and Arthur?"

"Yeah, of course it is!" Alfred chuckled to cover up the fact that he had no clue whether it was. Last night was alright, but that doesn't mean he forgot the hurtful words coming from the Brit reminding him that he wasn't trustworthy. His smile faltered once he realized Emilia was staring him down, reading him like an open book and seeing through his little laugh. "Okay, maybe not all the time." He confessed, his gaze averting down to the ground. "We fight a lot, but that's about it. He doesn't really get me at times. But I still believe we're soulmates. Everyone has their fights."

"You don't have to commit to the first person you fall in love with, Alfred." Emilia smiled softly, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "If you meet a boy you really click with on a different level, and you fall in love with him, would you repress that to be with Arthur? Have that as a question to think about and distract yourself from other troubles. And now", she looked at her wrist watch for a second, making a mental note of what the time was. She'd be late, but she didn't care, "I need to go to work. Take care, Alfred."

And she turned around, leaving behind a smile and a confused American - frozen in place, his eyes fixed on an imaginary dot.

Would I repress it just to be with Arthur?

It was a scary thing to think about, but it sure did take his mind off the fear as he walked back to the dormitory. Paying attention to traffic when crossing the road, of course. He might have wanted to die, but getting hit by a car wasn't really his style.

Emilia, on the other hand, hurried to the hospital with thousands of confusing, boiling thoughts in her head. Just like Alfred, she felt like a total emotional mess, but in a totally different way. While his mind was a mixture of anxiety, staying alert, being conflicted, and ideas for future paintings, her mind was full of different ideas of what love could be and what her love was. What if it was Alfred in the end who she was meant to be with? What if it was Lovisa?

What if Lovisa didn't want to try out to be with her because she would think it was strange to experiment?

There were so many ways her story could go, and she had no clue which direction it would take.

As her silver hair flew in the gentle breeze of the wind, she found herself approaching the hospital doors, opening them and running in - late, as she thought. But that was alright. She went over to the office she shared with a few other psychologists, and they saw the distress on her face. No one asked what was wrong, but they didn't scold her for being late despite being much older than she was, and older employees had the tendency to do that to new ones. These people understood the complexity of human emotions and the capacity each person can hold in. Emilia wished that everyone in the world was like that. She needed people like that, Alfred did, everybody did at one point or the other.

After she sat down and went through the paperwork that was left for her on the desk by the person who did the night shifts taking her place with her patients to watch over them if it was needed, she headed straight towards Lovisa's office. It was best to let her know now or never. Seeing Alfred again made her realize - it was hopeless to be in love with someone she couldn't get. Why would Lovisa have to go through that as well, if there was a chance things could turn out differently in the end?

She softly knocked on the wooden door which had a silver name plate that said 'Lovisa Bondevik, MD of Psychiatry', the door to the room she entered each morning to get the medication for her patients and have a chat with one of her closest friends.

"Hey", she said in a voice of hurry, and the psychiatrist instantly averted her gaze from the computer she was typing on, to the young therapist standing at the door.

"You're running late this morning, everything alright?" Lovisa asked in a calm voice with an undertone of worry to it. Emilia was never late.

"Just had a little talk with Alfred, since he's been having a rough week. But that's not why I'm here. I'm not here for the work either."

The last sentence, and the way it was spoken, caught Lovisa's attention even more. The mystery to it made her heartbeat nearly go erratic - little did she know what was coming, what kind of offer, the words that were soon going to be said. "I'm listening." She said seriously, and Emilia sat herself in the chair that was usually for the patients when she talked to them to get a clear diagnosis.

"So, I've been thinking." The Icelander started speaking, fidgeting with strands of her hair out of tension. She had no clue how the other would react to this.

"Should I be worried?"

"I hope not", Emilia chuckled, looking around a bit and finding her words, regaining her consciousness before continuing. "Ever since you confessed you were in love with me, and we drifted apart a little because things got awkward, I started thinking about how I don't know for sure whether I only like guys. How would I know? Just because Alfred was the one I fell for, doesn't mean there aren't other options. And to see if I'm right or just really confused, I want to..." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second or two before she opened them again, making eye contact with Lovisa. "I want to try being with you. To see how it feels. It can feel right, what if it does feel right? Then we'd both be missing out on something incredible."

"Emilia, you don't have to do that for me..." Lovisa said in a tone that sounded more like a gasp than a resonant sentence. She felt her hand being softly taken by the younger girl, and now she was completely sure her heart was skipping beats more than it should. Her cheeks turned a gentle pink, and her neck was flushed just like the rest of her face. Being with Emilia would be an experience and a half, something she had wanted for so long. But she didn't want the other to do it just because she thought she needed to make her happy.

"I want to." Emilia replied tenderly. "Do you want to as well?"

"Of course I do... I love you, Emilia."

"Well, when we're at it already," she chuckled, "I love you, too."


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

Back in the dormitory of the Yale New Haven university, Alfred wasn't having the time of his life - as if he was ever happy, but now he felt worse than usually. It could have been because of the thought that Emilia put in his head about Arthur. Would he give up this soulmate love for another guy if he ever met someone who he connected with on his level? It was a difficult question to process, especially for him, since he already had enough troubles having to deal with all the disorganized thinking most of the time.

He was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, right next to a messy hill made out of old, wasted art supplies he had never gotten to throwing away. Glancing at a sleeping Arthur a couple of times, he thought about whether he was truly the one for him or not. And that put him into a new state of distress.

What if all this soulmate thing was just another one of his delusions?

The fact that he was sitting in pure silence (accompanied by a little bit of Arthur's snoring once in a while) didn't help his case at all. Nothing has changed about silence being one of his biggest fears - it only worsened as time passed. So he quietly got up, reaching for his headphones that stood on the desk, which was even messier than the floor. At least his side. Arthur's side was cleaned up, just like it always was. The Brit couldn't stand when something wasn't organized. The laptop was in the corner, while the binders and notebooks stood perfectly aligned next to it. Alfred couldn't help but roll his eyes a little, but all in a loving manner. He simply loved Arthur despite anything he said, then why didn't Arthur feel the same?

Or did he?

Putting on the headphones and plugging them into his phone, he thought it would be a brilliant distraction from the noises he knew weren't real. How did he know? It took him some time and a lot of therapy sessions to understand this, but when he was hearing someone talking about painting the walls at seven in the morning in their small dorm room, it was most likely not true. And when he was hearing some weird screeching coming from under the table, it was not a nuclear powered spider coming to kill him. No matter how real that seemed to him. But when he looked through the window and saw strange black figures and shadows following him, that was the one hallucination that was always able to scare him to death despite how hard he tried to convince himself it was all in his head, and it wasn't real. It made him feel those cold flashes down his spine, and drove him to insanity. He hated feeling like that.

His theory about music being the perfect distraction was proved wrong. It was just a horrible day, his mind felt heavier than usual and he couldn't avoid it, so naturally everything he heard and saw had a stronger impact on him. Even if he took his medication this morning. Having schizophrenia treated wasn't as simple as downing a pill each morning and feeling extra sunshine happy and not hearing voices for the rest of the day. Perhaps that's how it was for some people, but definitely wasn't like that for him. Emilia was honest about the fact that he might never stop hearing them.

And he was suddenly so angry, but also sad at the same time. Angry at how he couldn't hear the music he wanted to play. Instead of hearing the beautiful, calming melody of Cinderblock Garden by All Time Low and Alex Gaskarth's magical voice, he heard a mixture of everything and anything that certainly wasn't as beautiful as calming as the song should have been. Out of the sudden wave of fury washing over him, he placed his hands over his head, getting the urge to rip out his hair from the distress it was causing him. But he didn't. That would hurt, and the last thing he wanted was any more physical pain. It was enough that he was nauseous and he had an unavoidable, pulsing headache. Instead, he let his emotions out through tears like he usually did. Maybe it didn't exactly help, but it gave him a relief of sorts.

Soon, a few tears turned into uncontrollable crying, and he threw his headphones across the room, leaning against the wall under the window and curling up to his knees, trying to stifle his sobs so he wouldn't wake up Arthur.

But that didn't work for long. He didn't even realize how loud he was, until he spotted Arthur out of the corner of his eye - the Englishman was just getting off the bed, and he didn't look really happy. He was saying something, muttering under his breath, but Alfred couldn't hear anyway. It all got so blurry, both his hearing and his vision, and he felt as if he was taken over by that second dimension again.

"Alfred, what's happening?" Arthur asked with both worry and irritation in his voice, keeping a safe distance from the crying American boy just in case the other was afraid. Which he was. Checking the time on his phone that stood on the desk, he was even more frustrated. It was only a little bit over seven in the morning, this was no time to be awake. Especially after last night's exhaustion.

Alfred couldn't reply to him, he didn't even know what he was being asked. And that made him sadder, angrier, a whole different mixture of emotions which made the tears stream quicker down his red cheeks. "I'm... Confusing... " He tried speaking, but it didn't seem like the sentence he wanted to form.

"Well, you sure are." Arthur shrugged, letting out a long exhale before sitting back down on the bed, not knowing what to do about the situation. He could call Emilia, but she wasn't Alfred's official therapist anymore. It didn't occur to him that she still cared about the American more than anything. "Listen, I have no clue how to help you at all, but I know it's hard, what you're going through and all... But for the love of god and everything holy, why are you awake at seven in the morning? Class starts at ten today!"

The American could sense he was being shouted out by Arthur's body and hand movements, and by the way his lips were pursed once he stopped yelling, even his usually calming green eyes gave away hints of irritation. He wanted to apologize and explain what was happening, but there was no way he could. He just wanted this to stop. The voices, the pictures, everything, it needed to stop right now. And with his impulsive decision making, the only way he thought he could ease the pain was grabbing for the box of antipsychotics from the desk drawer.

Arthur watched from the side, thinking for a few moments that he forgot to take them in the morning and wanted to fill the missing dose now. But when Alfred frantically opened the box, trying his hardest to pop the pills out of their wrapping one by one, he realized that he was going to take one too many.

And suddenly, Alfred wasn't the only one frantic in the room.

"Don't do this!" Arthur jumped off the bed full force, kneeling next to Alfred as he attempted to down the pills on an empty stomach all at once. "That could kill you!" He shouted, but the other didn't hear a thing.

Grabbing Alfred by the wrists as the younger fought back, thrashing around to get control over his hands back, he pulled him closer to his body and tried to shake the medication out of his grip, no matter how roughly the other wanted to fight him. He wasn't going to let this happen. Right now, he didn't care about being awake this early, or being irritated, the only thing that mattered was to save Alfred's life.

"Let me go!" Alfred yelled, kicking the other in every way he knew and wanting to get a hold of that open box of medicine on the floor once again. He needed it, otherwise it wouldn't stop - his plan wasn't to take his life, it was only to ease the pain, to end the loud screaming in his head and replace it with the bliss of music. No, not silence, since he didn't feel like being scared any longer. "I... Want..." He sobbed out the words, grabbing for the box and fighting out of Arthur's tight grip once the Brit was caught off guard for a single second. Getting up before the other could react, he ran towards the door and opened it fiercely, running out and up the stairs towards the cafeteria. He could take them in peace there, no one was going to stop him.  
He no longer had the strength to battle the demons of his own mind.

Perhaps the plan was to take his life, in a way. To him, it didn't sound like a bad idea. And right now, his thoughts were delirious, irrational, he had no sense of right and wrong, only one thing - to end the screaming that caused him pain.

"You're not getting away, don't even think that!" Arthur ran as quick as he could, hoping he wouldn't be too late to save the boy from his own actions.

In the heat of running up the stairs, with his clouded vision and unstable, rigid movements, Alfred lost his balance and fell on his knees right on the last step that lead to the floor of the cafeteria. The box of medication fell out of his hands, its components spreading all over the parquet. He wanted to scream, but nothing escaped his throat. Nothing felt real anymore, and he thought he was being taken by the ground itself, swallowed and pulled into eternal darkness. And when Arthur came to hold him back from behind, he was more frightened than ever before. He felt as if he lost that last spark of sanity, and the line between his usual self and his craziness was blurred. All he knew was that he didn't want to be here right now, because it hurt far too much to handle. Everything did. It didn't help that he had flashbacks from earlier moments of his life, reminding him how it was always a mess, convincing him that he didn't have a place for him on this planet. "Please, don't..." He whispered to some invisible force only he was able to see. "Not like this."

Arthur was near tears himself, knowing that he was incapable of helping him, and feeling his suffering more than ever. Everything he had ever said - that he wasn't trustworthy, that he was attention seeking, every bad word he thought about Alfred despite the fact he loved him, all of that was forgotten in the moment. This was far too serious to ignore. He pushed the pills to the side so that they were out of Alfred's reach, since he had this instinct telling him that the American wouldn't give a damn they were on the floor, he'd still take them.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he knew he had to pick Alfred up from the ground and lead him downstairs. "Can you take me by the hand?" He asked gently, spreading out his arm so Alfred would know what he was saying in case he didn't hear him.

He could somewhat understand some of the words being said, but he didn't want to take his hand. At this point, he just wanted to sit here crying and wait for his demise to fall upon him. But at the same time, he didn't want that.

"Alfred, please. You and I both know that it's not worth ending your life..." He sighed, sitting down on the stairs next to the crying boy, embracing him with both arms and letting him lean his head on his shoulder. "This is difficult for both of us, you know. Do you know how hard it is seeing you do something like this? You're a great person, you're such a talented individual, I don't see why nature decided to curse you like that. And what I also don't understand is why it made me fall in love with you. I'm not capable of caring for someone... Someone like you."

"I... I don't know what to do." Alfred whispered out, bringing his hands to his face to wipe away all the tears that couldn't stop falling. "I want it to stop." That's all he ever wanted, to make it stop. And even though now, in Arthur's embrace, the screaming wasn't as strong as it was at the apogee of his panic attack, it was still there. It was always there, whether in the back of his mind or as a full blown psychotic break. It was bound to make him go insane one day, perhaps this was the day. He couldn't take it.

"Me neither, me neither. How about we go back to the room and get ready for English class, huh? Or are you not able to go?"

What the actual heck was Arthur thinking? There was no way he could attend any classes today. He needed someone to be there right next to him and let him cry it all out for a full day. But he didn't want to bother anyone - Arthur obviously wanted to do work, Adrienne and Matthew had already been having a week rough enough, Gilbert was going to be hungover as soon as he woke up, and Elizabeta needed to take care of him.

Which meant he was going to be all alone for the rest of the day, and he couldn't let that happen either. He was conflicted once again. And Arthur really wasn't helping with putting the burden of having to work on him as well.

"I can't do that... I can't go to class." Alfred muttered underneath his breath, taking in a deep breath in an attempt of relaxing his body. But it didn't work, nothing ever worked to relieve his constant tension.

"I bet working can help you take your mind off other things, don't you think so, too?"

"But I can't concentrate!" Alfred shouted at him all of the sudden, and Arthur just put his arms in the air in defense, his eyes widening at the other's rigid tone of voice. He didn't have the energy to deal with Alfred this morning. Lack of sleep, lack of alone time, it all came down to him being angry again and not being able to hold it in. As much as he didn't want to take it out on the American, he was just being heavy to handle at the moment. The last thing Arthur wanted to do was wake up earlier than usual and deal with a suicidal American who didn't know where he was. It wasn't easy.

Still, he had to understand one very important thing - it was much harder on Alfred himself. That was something he didn't even care to think about, at least that was how it seemed.

"I don't care, alright? You're going to English class because later in the day you're going to cry about how you're missing too many lessons, you'll take my notes, and then cry again because you don't understand what's going on. You know, I really didn't come to bloody Yale university for this. And I believe I've already said that a couple of times." Arthur made sure that every word resonated through the hallway, and it didn't go through his head that other people also wanted sleep, that Alfred didn't want to be shouted out, that he wasn't the only one with a thin nervous system.

"Why do you want to make me feel worse?!" Alfred didn't feel like taking this extra burden of being yelled at, and despite Arthur literally saving his life a couple of seconds ago, it made him feel no better. He got up quickly, but carefully stood in place for a moment so he wouldn't fall back down.

"How on earth am I making you feel worse? If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead by now! Just look at yourself, you can barely function, it took you half an hour to hear me speak, and now you're accusing me of making you feel worse? It's not my fault that you're sick!"

"Then whose fault is it, mine?" Alfred shot back, running down the stairs towards his brother's room instead of their own. "I knew it all along, I am always to blame. For everything bad."

"Well, perhaps it is." Arthur retorted, crossing his arms and sighing as he watched the other go away from him as if he was contagious. Which he obviously wasn't. The Brit thought he was helping him - work was usually his way of dealing with things, and he had no clue that he'd react so violently at the mere idea of going to English class which he usually enjoyed doing. He had all the right to be angry at Alfred's irrational reaction... Or so he thought.

The American couldn't believe the words that were being said.

If it's all my fault, then why didn't he just let me end my life as I wanted to? Why did he stop me? Why does he play with my emotions like that, as if they aren't played with enough?

Despite everything, he didn't want to leave him. He was scared that he'd never find anyone else, contrary to what Emilia said. Arthur was his soulmate, they just had their fights, it was normal, that was the way it should be... He was quite sure in that, and his mind was difficult to change once he set a belief of his own.

He was afraid that no one else would love him, because he was quite a troubled individual in a lot of aspects. And it seemed like those troubles just kept piling up on him with each and every day.

So instead of continuing to fight and trying to prove Arthur wrong by attempting to convince him it wasn't his fault, he ran off. Not anywhere, though. He wanted to talk to Matthew - he needed to talk to him.

But again... Waking up another person that he loved because of his own worries?

That didn't sound too pleasing.

In the end, he was indecisive, standing in the middle of the hallway like a fool, not knowing what to do. He glanced behind himself one more time, getting a glimpse of Arthur fixing the mess he made a little bit up the stairs. So he did care after all...

You deserve to be alone, his mind told him, and he didn't have another choice but to listen to it. He was a slave to his own thoughts now, and had no control over them.

And if they said he deserved to be alone, then alone he would be.

Little did he know, their fight was easily heard by the people in the dorm rooms, especially those who cared enough to listen. One of them was Matthew, who was awake for a long time already, doing his work and preparing for his class until he heard some shouting in the hallway that reminded him of Alfred and Arthur.

In fact, the shouting was coming from Alfred and Arthur, wasn't it?

As Alfred was about to go to the room he shared with Arthur, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a voice from the back - this time, it was a familiar voice that sounded more real than the others, and that was what made him stop. Usually, he'd try and brush anything off as his paranoid mind. But he knew that it wasn't that. So he turned around, finding himself face to face with his older brother Matthew, just the one he wanted next to him.

Perhaps he wasn't destined to spend the day alone in his own misery after all.

"Will someone explain to me what's happening? I heard some shouting, woke up, then it stopped for a while, then it was louder than before, then I could swear I heard you cry your soul out... Where's Arthur?" His voice was soft, caring, everything that Alfred needed to hear at the moment. He missed it already, despite hearing it last night.

The younger American stood there in confusion for a couple of seconds, blinking rapidly and trying to gather his thoughts (which was quite difficult for him). "I was, uh... We were... I have no clue what was going on." He made up a lie, since he couldn't straight up tell him he tried to goddamn overdose, and then Arthur yelled at him for not wanting to go to class right after. That would sound senseless, and he also didn't want to make Matthew worry for his well being more than he already did. "Arthur is upstairs." That was the one question he could answer, even if he didn't want to.

"And... What is he doing upstairs?" Matthew took the route of asking small questions one by one until getting out a full answer from Alfred. He knew how difficult it was for the other to form sentences and properly think.

"He's... Cleaning."

Well, that wasn't unexpected if it was Arthur they were talking about. If someone was crazy about cleaning, it was certainly the Brit. "And why were you two shouting at each other? More importantly, why were you crying? I'm worried that he hurt you, you know."

"He might have, but that's not important." Alfred admitted, but quickly regretted that he said anything about it. The next thing he expected was a rapid fire of questions about it, questions he wouldn't be able to get out of. Because this was Matthew, and he needed to know everything. He cared at any hour of the day. He would never get mad at Alfred for waking him up early if it was urgent.

Soon enough, Arthur made his way downstairs with a dull expression in his eyes, and both Alfred and Matthew turned towards the footsteps they heard coming from behind. He had his arms crossed, and he still looked a bit angry. That on its own made Alfred scared already, he was sick of being shouted out. It was enough he had to take it from his own mind, Arthur wasn't being much help lately.

When he looked back at it, Arthur wasn't helpful to him ever since they started being roommates. But now wasn't the time for overthinking.

"Arthur, can you explain to me what happened?" Matthew asked, expecting a better answer from the Brit than he did from his younger brother. And that he didn't mean in a bad way, he just knew that Arthur could organize his thoughts better - at least he hoped so.

Alfred signaled to Arthur silently not to tell him anything about him trying to take his life and ease the pain or anything else that was happening, but he knew that the other wouldn't keep it shut. And then Matthew would be concerned, and he'd feel bad, and everything would be an even bigger shipwreck than it already was...

This wasn't what he wanted! He just wished to feel better and to stop everything, not cause fights and more problems. Why was everything taking different directions than planned?

"Alfred tried to overdose and I stopped him from doing it." The Englishman recited almost in a monotone, emotionless voice, but to someone who was good at reading the subtext behind someone's words, they'd know how many feelings hid behind them.

That left Matthew in awe.

His little brother tried to take his life, and he wasn't there to help him?

More importantly, Alfred tried to overdose?

"I cannot believe this..." He whispered in shock and surprise, but also horror, not knowing what to say next. He could only pull Alfred into a tight hug and never let go, afraid that he'd lose him if he did.

"Everyone feels bad and it's all my fault." Alfred choked out the words just barely, clinging onto Matthew like he was a lifesaver, and he was drowning. In fact, that wasn't very far from the truth. The metaphorical truth, at least. He was still struggling to stay afloat in this sea of emotions, and Matthew was the one he could rely on when things got rough. So was Emilia, but she wasn't always next to him. She couldn't be, that was kind of impossible. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He apologized over and over again, repeating the words like a prayer.

"It isn't your fault, Alfred, don't think like that." Matthew whispered to him, pulling him even closer and gently running his fingers through his golden locks of hair, knowing for a fact that the action always managed to calm him down at least a tiny bit.

"Arthur said it is." He hopelessly answered, and the older American gave Arthur a questioning look, an eyebrow raised and his lips pursed together.

"Did he now?" He asked, and now Arthur was the one regretting his words. For god's sake, why was he like that? He could have easily kept the anger in, he didn't have to say such a thing... Well, now it was a bit too late for that. Alfred was hurt, and Matthew was going to eat him alive for hurting him like that.

"Of course I didn't say that! He's just delusional, he doesn't know what the heck he's talking about--"

"And give me one good reason why I should believe you over my own brother." Matthew's expression wasn't as soft anymore, and it was slowly turning into a glare that pierced through Arthur's soul, making him nearly as scared as Alfred. If that was even possible. "Listen to me... I don't care if you're a friend or not, the only person who is allowed to call Alfred delusional is his fucking therapist, because she can help him instead of using it as an insult. And it's pretty damn obvious you're trying to insult him by it. I'm not having any of that."

"I didn't say anything wrong!"

"If it made Alfred cry and if it made him feel like he was the one to blame for everything, then you certainly did say something wrong. So are you going to apologize or stand there and act like you're the victim?"

Arthur decided it was the best if he didn't fight back. If Matthew wanted to, he could crush him to pieces. Especially when he was powered by anger. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry..." He put his hands in the air, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes a little at the whole situation. Now he was the one whose fault it was.

"Say it like you mean it." Matthew shot back, still as angry as he was when he first found out what Arthur told him.

And while his brother was trying to kill his supposed soulmate, Alfred kept feeling horrible. Even worse, if that was possible. He still wished to disappear, and everything felt awkward, unreal, like it wasn't supposed to be happening. Perhaps it wasn't, but he didn't think of it that way.

Arthur took a deep breath, calming down the remaining pieces of his anger (annoyance, irritation, whatever it was) before he said anything else. "Alright. I'm sorry for hurting you, Alfred. I didn't mean it. I wasn't thinking and I messed up, but now when I admitted it, are we okay?"

Even if he thought differently, which he did, Alfred didn't feel like starting any more disagreements and arguments. Other than that, he was extremely frightened that Arthur would shout at him more, which would just lead to him hallucinating even worse. "Yeah, we're okay." He said in a weak, scared voice, looking down at the floor instead of making eye contact.

But Matthew wasn't stupid, and he didn't need some extra high empathy skills to read that, in reality, they weren't okay. Alfred didn't mean what he said, and neither did Arthur. Yet he couldn't meddle in his brother's relationship. Not yet, at least. Perhaps it was just a little misunderstanding, a small fight, nothing serious.

"Good, good." Matthew pretended that he was satisfied with their answers, wondering if the two of them were really soulmates like Alfred kept saying they were. "Now, Alfred, you need to come with me. I can't let you be alone in silence after what happened."

Well, there was time to figure everything out. For now, he just had to take care of his brother and keep him away from any fights, shouts, or quiet places.

A part of Alfred was glad he was being taken away from Arthur to people he trusted wouldn't hurt him - Matthew and Adrienne - but the rest of him was simply conflicted.

Being scared of saying anything that went against Arthur's words wasn't the healthiest thing, yet he didn't want to question it.

And he wasn't going to question it.

Everything is okay between us, he convinced himself.

Everything will always be okay between us.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

A bit after Alfred's enormous breakdown, uncontrollable crying and the urge to end everything right there without hesitation, the American was left alone in his room while Arthur, not caring about anything besides his work at the moment since it was the last week of the college year and he didn't want anyone stand in the way of getting thing done, went to English class. Being left alone was a horrible idea, but he didn't even think of saying a word against the Brit anymore. It would just cause a fight, then another drama would spark out and he'd feel like he was at fault for everything.

He spent time in Matthew's care while Adrienne was soundly sleeping, not a single sound able to wake her up. But once his older brother needed to head to his own final classes, along with the Canadian girl, he was bound to stay alone. The only thing he could do was try his best to send a reasonable email to his English professor explaining why he couldn't attend the lesson. He hoped that it didn't sound as messy as it sounded in his head.

Fears were piling up on him. He was afraid of being the reason everything bad was happening to the ones he loved, frightened of the fact that Arthur might not love him as much as he loved him, and petrified of how he felt as if he was drifting away from everything he enjoyed, which could ultimately lead to him dropping out of college. He didn't want to do that, he didn't want to feel like an even bigger disappointment than he already thought he was. Being one of the two only members of the Jones family, he always wanted to try his best. The last thing he expected was to be stuck in an alternate reality created by his own mind.

He had enough time to think about every single one of his fears while he was alone on his bed, and that lead him to panicking once again. Thinking turned to overthinking, overthinking turned to pressure, pressure turned to a panic attack, and a panic attack turned to psychosis. Just like it always did, just like it always would. Today was such a horrible day, and it kept getting worse.

"I need to calm down", he whispered to himself as he tried to take deep breaths and concentrate on something that didn't give him visions or make him hear strange, unrealistic sounds that he knew most probably weren't there. Yet he still heard them.

He needed to get a new box of antipsychotics soon, because all the pills he owned had gone to waste earlier in the morning. "I can't panic, Arthur will be back soon and he can't see me like this... He'll be angry again."

But it wasn't as easy as simply calming down whenever he wanted to. He had no control over it, that was the worst part. Being a puppet to his own deranged thoughts and following their orders, not being able to assert himself and stop it. No, they were just there, and he was just their slave.

It didn't help that he suddenly had a wave of thoughts not only about his own troubles, but troubles of other people he knew, loved and cared about. Those he was introduced to while he was staying at the hospital, like Isabella - the last time he properly talked to her was when he had the urge to save her from Ivan again. And what about the Russian? Was he doing better or worse, did anything change about him treating other patients?

 

He cursed his empathetic self sometimes, hated that he put so much thought and care into others. A lot of the times more than himself. In fact, he didn't give a damn about his well being, as long as others around him were alright. That's why he hated seeing Matthew stressed and worried all because of him, all because he didn't know how to handle his paranoia and constant panicking.

Covering his head with a pillow and wrapping himself with the blanket on the bed, he was shaking and trembling with his entire body, wishing he could call for help instead of feeling so miserable. If only there was a way to alter his own mind, change his own past and future - he would use it to bring their parents back, to make everything bright and happy, like the life everyone dreamed of and deserved to have. He would use that power to end this psychotic state of his that made him feel like Earth wasn't his real place of birth or residence. And once he would have himself fixed, he'd help everyone around him get back on their feet.  
He always wanted to be everyone's hero, but through time he understood that it was completely okay if he was the person he needed to save first before anybody else. Although that sentence hurt, and it was one of the most difficult things he had to process and learn, it was the truth.

As soon as he heard footsteps right behind the door - not being completely sure whether they were real or not - he assumed it could have easily been Arthur, so he instantly jumped up to make himself look presentable. Which meant, pretend he wasn't panicking his life away. The door was being opened in a slow motion, and the Brit walked in the room in a couple of small steps, dropping his notebooks and binders on the floor next to the bed, and placing his laptop on the desk. The first thing he saw as he was walking in was Alfred, his glasses standing in a strange position on his nose until he fixed them up, his hair an utter and total mess, his breath hitching in his throat, and his lips trembling as much as he tried to prevent it. It seemed like he was still feeling terrible, that was Arthur's first conclusion.

Alfred wanted to tell Arthur what he was thinking about, everything that worried him, but he was hesitant. He had bothered him enough for one day.

But Emilia said I should say everything I experience to someone out loud, because that helps. He thought of his therapist's words, and that made him simply do it. Perhaps Arthur had his dose of refreshing after doing some work and relaxing with some writing, or whatever the hell they had done in English class today.

He knew he could always go to Matthew - if Arthur was already done with class, that meant Matthew and Adrienne were, too. Especially if they already gave in the needed exams.

Arthur was looking at him curiously as much as he looked at him with the same amount of curiosity. The only difference was that Alfred's gaze was based on fear, and Arthur's on confusion and annoyance.

"Uh... Are you going to say something or stare at me?" The Englishman raised an eyebrow at the other, waiting for one of them to say a word instead of this mindless staring game (which Alfred didn't even know they were playing).

Tell him, tell him everything, something in Alfred's head convinced him to do it, but at this point it was hard to tell whether it was his own thought or the voices. Nevertheless, it was right. He should tell, why would he feel burdened by the fear of Arthur? If he was truly his soulmate, he'd understand...

Of course they were soulmates!

He wanted to slap himself for even doubting that fact as soon as he thought of it.

So he tried to spill out every single thing that bothered him and lead him to being in this obviously panicky state which was visible no matter how hard he attempted to cover it up, but it didn't turn out the way he wanted it to. Instead of the sentences being coherent, instead of getting his actual feelings out to Arthur with a hope he wouldn't be shouted out, it all sounded like he had just fallen out of the sky, hit his head on the ground and didn't know what he was talking about. It was one big mess, a salad of meaningless words that didn't go well together, and him flailing his arms around to make a point didn't really help his case. "I said... You were, here, and... I thought... Makes sense, but--"

"How about you slow down a little, alright? I don't get a word you're saying."

What do you mean you don't get a word I'm saying?! I'm being perfectly clear! At least it sounded clear to him, his twisted mindset told him he was speaking normally. But to anyone else who could hear it - in this case it was an utterly perplexed Brit - it didn't sound nearly as normal and understandable.

"I have... Want, talk, I need to..." Alfred kept on stuttering and stumbling over his words, and the only reply he got from Arthur at first was a long exhale out of pure exasperation.

"I can't deal with it now, I need my introvert time." Thinking that Alfred just needed to either vent or talk about his feelings, Arthur decided that he didn't have the time, will or energy for it at the moment. It was too much for him in one day. And as if the American wasn't expressive enough when it came to his deepest emotions.

The rejection came to Alfred as no surprise. But a part of him still didn't expect it, or better said, repressed any idea of it happening because he was so intensely scared, to the point that petrified was an understatement. And little did he know, it was the immense fear that made his speech even more disorganized than usually. He spoke normally most of the time, but there were moments such as this one when the paranoid delusions were too strong to over come and they would meddle in his thought and speech pattern as well as the movements of his body that would suddenly become rigid and unstoppable. Just like now, when he didn't know what else to do with his hands except move them around to the point where Arthur really started thinking he had crossed that border of insanity.

He kept speaking nonsensically, and the Brit kept feeling more and more agitated.

"Will you please just stop?" He yelled out loud, making Alfred freeze in place - Arthur rasied his voice at him again, that wasn't good, that definitely didn't make him feel better.

A way to be empathetic, certainly. Dismissing the other's emotions, making him hold an ever stronger belief that it was his fault, gaslighting him into thinking he was truly insane, shouting at him even though knowing it made him afraid. That was how Alfred felt, yet he couldn't bring himself to say it even if he wanted to. Arthur was just trying to help, right? But he simply didn't know how. That had to be the reason. And Alfred chose that to be the one he would believe.

Instead of starting an argument and spilling out any more of these word salads he thought were coherent sentences, he decided to go to his brother instead, since earlier in the morning, Matthew told him that he could come to him anytime to talk about how he felt and unload his burden. That meant a lot to the young American, to have someone he could rely on. Adrienne, Gilbert and Elizabeta were there for him as well, but a brotherly connection was still the strongest one out of all those. Matthew was someone who acted as his caretaker since the death of their mother and father, of course he would trust him the most. Even if that trust might have been broken for some time, even if he believed their fight was the only reason for his psychosis in the first place. Alfred only blamed himself for it, not his older brother.

Climbing down from the bed in shaky movements - Arthur watched carefully and hoped he wouldn't fall - Alfred found himself with both feet on the floor, still trembling, but less than earlier. His panic attacks ranged from making him pace around and scream to making him feel completely numb on the inside, and sometimes those swings in mood could happen in a matter of minutes.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked in curiosity, watching the younger go towards the door. What made him question how sane he was even more was the fact he had no shoes on, and he didn't plan on putting them on, at least that was how it seemed when he opened the door and walked out of the room, shakily closing the door behind him without giving the Brit an answer to the question he primarily asked.

And Arthur was once again left in awe.

Alfred wasn't the only one confused about his emotions, that was for sure. With each passing moment, the Englishman was conflicted about how he felt for the American. Was it love? Or was the love a phase overpowered by the other's charisma and physical appeal when they first saw each other?  
He loved the old Alfred that he met when he got to be his roommate for the first time - the sunshine boy with golden hair and a smile as bright as the brightest star on a clear summer sky, he radiated optimism, positivity, hope, everything that Arthur needed after what happened in England and what made him move to a totally different country. But as time went by and Alfred's behaviour took a huge leap to the downside, he couldn't help but rethink his feelings. His personality changed from that optimistic boy with the deep, sapphire blue eyes full of love and life. Now, he was an empty shell of who he used to be. Scared of even the smallest noise. Paranoid of looking through the window. Sleepless. Emotionally and physically weaker. And Arthur wasn't sure how much he liked that.

But everyone missed the old Alfred - Alfred himself did as well. No one would want to forever be trapped in this state of hallucination and delusion. Everyone strived for honest smiles and wholehearted laughs.

He just couldn't have those as he used to, and it wasn't his fault.

Taking slow, careful steps, so that he was alert and aware of all his surroundings while his senses were going wild and boiling, Alfred didn't go to Matthew's and Adrienne's room. He knew that they hung out at the cafeteria every day after lunch, so that was the place where he went to look for them.

Step by step, he told himself, step by step. So he wouldn't fall like he did earlier. His knees still hurt and they might have been bruised. But he was too tired to check, and it wasn't like he cared if he was hurt or not.

As he approached the big, heavy glass door of the cafeteria, he didn't want to instantly enter. Glass had become one of his greatest enemies, better said, it was the best place for the shadows and creatures to haunt him as if they were on the other side. So opening the door took a lot of guts, since he didn't know what could await him on the other side. He was glad that the door wasn't see through on both sides, though. If there was someone in there wanting to kill him, they wouldn't see his figure from the outside.

Instead of psychotic voices, he heard familiar ones coming from the inside of the room.

"Adrienne, I'm really worried for him. This is clearly not a healthy relationship, but Alfred is too scared to end things because he wants Arthur to be his soulmate." He was more than certain that one of the voices belonged to his brother Matthew, and the words he was hearing left him in awe.

It wasn't a healthy relationship?

"Oui, and a soulmate would never say such things. We would never say them to each other. Everyone fights, but I'd never want to purposely hurt you and you wouldn't do it to me either. But you're right... Their relationship seems off. Perhaps there's a real reason to be concerned." And the one replying most definitely belonged to Adrienne.

They can't just make those kinds of assumptions! Arthur is just trying to help me, he doesn't know how... It's my fault, not his. Arthur himself said that all the blame is on me, and he's right. I don't see a different solution to this.

But it wasn't unhealthy!

Despite deeply fearing the creatures he saw in the reflection of the door, he bit his lip and looked away, opening the door in an aggravatingly slow movement, finding himself face to face with - not a monster, but Matt and Adrienne. The ones meddling in his perfectly healthy relationship!

"I..." He took speaking slow, taking the whole situation as a serious matter. "I heard what you were..." It was harder than he thought, trying to speak normally right after having a burst of disorganized speech. "I heard what you were talking. About, uh, me and Arthur."

Matthew and Adrienne shared a worried glance between each other, before turning back to a confused and probably hopeless Alfred who stood at the door. "We think you should reconsider where you want to take this relationship with Arthur." Adrienne recited the words with obvious care in her voice, but the American didn't have a pleasant reaction to this. He felt as if their privacy was being disrespected in a way. Who gave them the right to rethink his relationship?

"We're-- We're soulmates!" He stuttered out, a bit too loudly since everyone who was silently reading in different corners of the cafeteria immediately averted their looks towards him instead of their books or kindles. Why was there never peace in this room?

"Alfred", the Canadian girl approached him with a loving expression in her eyes, wanting to place a hand on his shoulder in comfort. He backed away, and she only turned towards Matthew with a frown on her face before turning back to the shorter, frightened boy in front of her. "A soulmate would never hurt you or make you feel this bad. Sure, fights happen. But he made you panic, he made you think that it's your fault. That's not right--"

"You don't know half of the story!" Alfred shouted, not daring to admit that they were right, he made him feel bad, he made him believe he was the one to blame... "You can't meddle in my love life!" He pushed her away, and she took a step back to regain balance from the sudden physical outburst.

Oh, this was bad. He was truly convinced that he and Arthur were inseparable, meant to be... And he was ready to defend his beliefs at all costs. "Breathe, Alfred, you don't have to do this." She said, her voice urgent and a tiny bit scared, holding her hands up instinctively as a way to shield herself. "Just breathe."

Matthew realized soon enough just how bad the situation got, especially because Alfred would never purposefully hurt a friend, anyone he loved. Whether it was verbally or physically, he would never lay a hand on them. He stood next to Adrienne both to give her some extra protection and to be there for Alfred if he was to break down or anything like that. He felt more than just awkward, knowing they were being watched by every single person sitting in the room.

 

Some of them wanted their reading peace back, and some craved a taste of someone's private drama, sitting there just waiting to soak it in and share it. Soon, half of the goddamn dormitory would know that Alfred Jones was aggressive, and that everyone should stay in a ten mile radius away from him. It wasn't like his social life was already majorly hurt or anything, not at all.

"I know it's hard for you to think properly right now." Matthew began in a soft calming tone, a voice that always made Alfred somehow feel better. "But we're trying to help you out, and protect you. You told me this morning that Arthur hurt you, and it's not the first time that you two are having a conflict. A lot can grow from a simple conflict, do you know that?"

Alfred had a perplexed look plastered on his face, and he stumbled across words to find the right ones to say. "But we were meant to be together!"

"Look at it this way... If you met another person who you liked, would you let that new love go just because you feel like you have to stay with Arthur?" Adrienne asked, not knowing that the same question was already put into Alfred's head. Yet he didn't want to keep questioning.

"Emilia asked me the same thing..." He stood in disbelief, staring at the two, then at the ground and back at them. He was so indecisive, so confused.

"That means something has to be off. You trust Emilia, don't you?" She continued, hoping that the words would have somewhat of a positive outcome in the end, even though she was aware of the consequences.

"Of course I trust her... But I've only felt like this towards Arthur, at least I think so." He muttered with insecurity, going over past feelings in no more than a few seconds to remind himself if there was anything he had ever felt that was similar to what he felt for Arthur. An instant connection of sorts.

Perhaps Emilia, but it was never like that. He saw her as a close friend, and his ex therapist. Probably his future therapist as well if he kept acting like this to the ones he loved.

He thought about it for some more time, both Matthew and Adrienne waited in anticipation - it was obvious by his facial expression that he was thinking, and they didn't want to interrupt whatever he needed time to process.

Was there anyone else? Or was it only Arthur?

And then it hit him.

There could have been someone other than Arthur. Someone who he felt was on his level, someone who he wanted to care for and protect, someone who was always in the back of his mind...

"I think I know..."

The words were barely uttered, yet the two could still hear them. It was obvious he was rethinking them, but there was something in his eyes that Adrienne could instantly read, that gave it away. He certainly felt that way about somebody else. It was just hidden deep within, he wanted to repress it, and thus, convinced himself it was absolutely nothing.

"You do?" Matthew asked, tilting his head a bit in slight confusion. He didn't expect that answer.

Alfred seemed to be in an ever bigger amount of distress, though, looking around frantically and looking for answers, looking for a sign from the universe to tell him whether this was right or not. "But this can't be right... I know i'm bi, but I always figured my soulmate was a guy, not a girl."

"Who is it?"


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

"Who is it?"

Confusion encircled the young American. This couldn't be right, there couldn't have been someone other than Arthur that was his soulmate - it didn't seem like the truth. Yet his heart kept reminding him of this girl he met not so long ago and instantly formed a connection with. He wanted to protect her as soon as he saw her in trouble, as if his natural heroic instincts just came back when she appeared in the picture.

"It's this girl that I met while I was at the hospital..." Alfred spoke slowly, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to form proper sentences and gather his words in one place. And he didn't feel like hurrying. It seemed like a better idea to take his time and take it step by step.

Matthew and Adrienne looked at each other in surprise, both thinking it would be a guy, that Alfred didn't take girls as an option at all. But again, people can have multiple preferences, that wasn't anything supernatural or strange. They just didn't expect him from him, the guy who always joked around about being the gayest. Well, except Arthur. "Don't tell me it's Emilia. Although it's not uncommon for people to fall in love with their therapists..."

"No, not her!" Alfred interrupted Matthew before the other could get another word out. "She's a patient there. Her name is Isabella... And we kind of immediately became close. I might have liked her this entire time without realizing it."

"Isabella sounds like a familiar name, I just can't remember where I know it from..." Adrienne pursed her lips together in thought, and Matthew nodded along in agreement.

But Alfred just knowingly smirked. "It's Mathias' sister." He exclaimed, leaving both of them in awe and genuine surprise. It was a small world, that was for sure. "He's never mentioned to me that he had a sister, and we were both so shaken up when I told her brother was my first roommate. We're all so connected, it's weird."

"So... You're in love with another mental person." Matthew stated, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"You can't say that!" Adrienne scolded him, but Alfred didn't seem that offended. After all, he learned that was what people thought. That they were crazy, mental, insane, that all of them were the same. So he just laughed a little instead, though it didn't seem as wholehearted as his natural laughter.

"Isabella is doing much better than me, trust me. If it was all Emilia's decision, she'd be released from the hospital much earlier. But since Mathias moved to Denmark, she didn't want to leave America as well and thought that staying locked away would be her way of getting out of moving for at least a bit more time." He explained in a sense that the two would understand better. "She'll be back at Yale when the classes end. Well, back at the dormitory at least. And I can't wait to see her again."

"So what are you going to tell Arthur when she comes back?" Adrienne asked with concern in her voice. She didn't want him to get into a bad situation, it would be quite inconvenient for all of them. Arthur wasn't a reliable person to them anymore. Perhaps they could stay friends with him, but neither Matthew or Adrienne wanted him to be in a relationship with someone they loved with their hearts and soul. For Alfred's own good, and for Arthur's, since they both seemed unhappy with their current place.

"I don't know anything. Maybe everything changes." Alfred shrugged, though his heart knew that there was barely any possibility that things would change between him and Arthur. It only seemed to get worse as his mental state did as well. "I'm a bit confused about life and love right now, you know."

"Well, it won't be like that forever." Matthew encouraged him, and his younger brother just gave him a shy smile that was so obviously dishonest - Alfred didn't have that hope. And he knew that it was most probably false in the first place. There was a big chance that it would be this confusing even when he was on medication. Perhaps he would feel like this until the end of his days, and he was so scared that it was going to be like that. That he would lose his life in this different world created by his mind, and that he wouldn't be able to keep a relationship, or a job, or finish college, or live independently as a capable adult. All of that stress for the future was taking a toll on him as well as everything else, making him even more anxious, creating this newfound sadness inside of him. He was frightened that the sadness, too, would persist, and he'd never be free from the chains of his own twisted mind and deranged thoughts.

What if it will? The thought kept bothering him, but he didn't feel like sharing it at the moment. The day was bad enough, he felt like he was burdening everyone around him with his troubles. First venting his soul out to Emilia, then almost taking his life, having Arthur take care of it, then disturbing Matthew's sleep, panicking in front of the Brit, running away from him, and now again being a nuisance to Matthew and Adrienne. It all felt horrible, and he thought of himself as a bad person for it, despite the fact that he couldn't stop it and it wasn't his fault.

"You're right, it won't." He replied instead of denying and making the other two even more concerned for his well being.

He swore to himself that he was going to keep all his feelings inside from now on, even mental breakdowns that were unstoppable and unexpected. If nothing, he could cry alone at night when no one could hear it, and he could get those deepest, darkest emotions out with art, at least he hoped.

Art. It was something he always enjoyed, it helped him through so many terrible times. But lately, it wasn't as it used to be. It was like the relief he got from it was slowly drifting away from him, and it wasn't peaceful. He used to paint forests and skylines and coastal towns and ships on the sea, but now it was one big chaos on the canvas. Mostly painted in red and black, blood and silence. Everyone who saw it was worried. The Art professor couldn't believe how quickly he turned around to the darkness, how he changed in such a short amount of time. Alfred's artwork was still, nevertheless, the best. Only now, it seemed a bit too frightening for him to get his own exhibition yet like he did once or twice in the past.

He showed the drawings in pencil he did while at the hospital to his professor as well, and he could only say they were remarkable. Which they were. But it was saddening and scary to know all the things that went on in Alfred's young mind that could have been so healthy and happy.

Alfred was afraid that all of this was chasing him towards that dark abyss of depression, which was something he didn't want on top of everything. Not again.

Yet he still smiled, even if it was through tears. He always smiled, though never for himself. It was for others around him, so they didn't have to suffer as much as he did internally. And even if they knew he wasn't at his highest point, a single smile could reassure them that he would be alright.

Despite the fact that he himself thought he wouldn't.

\- - -

In the evening, as her workshift was nearing its end, Emilia received a phone call from Matthew that she didn't expect at all. It was from Alfred's phone, and she thought she'd hear his voice as she answered the phone, but that wasn't the case. Instead, it was the older brother, who she didn't mind talking to.

But what came to her as an even bigger surprise was the reason for the phone call, which she wished she didn't have to hear and wanted to never happen again. Hearing about what happened to Alfred in the morning made her feel so devastated, and in a way, she blamed herself for it. Perhaps he wouldn't wish to take his life if she was a good enough therapist, if she had helped him more and made him feel like his life was still worth living... Little did she realize, it was nowhere near her fault. She was also quite young, with so much to learn and experience. There were going to be patients who seemed like they'd never do such a thing, and some would do it, some wouldn't.

Alfred did have a list of reasons to keep on living, but in that moment, he had no control over his impulses and the only thing he wanted and needed to do was to stop the voices. To end the pain and drop the heavy burden he had no strength to carry on his chest.

Matthew would have to come over in the morning to pick up a new box of antipsychotics for his brother, and probably with a prescription for a bigger dose, since this didn't seem to help much. Which was all normal as well. They would have to try different things until realizing what fit him the best and what worked the most. If taking a pill each morning and receiving a monthly shot of medication wasn't enough for him, the case was pretty goddamn bad. But that wasn't a reason to give up on trying, in fact, it was just the opposite. And Alfred was willing to experiment - not for himself, but for the sake of other patients and people who had just been getting into therapy.

Emilia had another thing on her mind, though. As she ended the call with Matthew and made a deal that he would come at about nine tomorrow morning to pick up the meds, she went to check on her other patients - Isabella, who was functioning greatly, but she kept saying that she missed Alfred since he went back to college. Which made her want to get back quicker. Luckily, there was only a couple of more days for this semester to end, and for summer holidays to start. And for Ivan, who wasn't even her patient, things started to turn around for the better.

His story took quite an unexpected turn, and Emilia just had to be caught up in the middle of it. She saw him one day in the hall during breakfast trying to get all into Isabella's business again, but instead of letting his psychologist take the situation, she decided to do it instead because it was her patient who was getting hurt. Which meant that Ivan needed a stricter hand.

She calmed Isabella down from panicking, and took Ivan for a little conversation, and he spilled all of his feelings to her. About his psychologist, who just made him feel worse and apparently had no clue about what she was doing. And how jealous he was of Alfred, Isabella and all her other patients because they had such an amazing therapist taking care of them. He wanted her to take care of him as well. And even though that wasn't possible, she told him he could come and talk to her anytime he had a free hall pass.

Every time he had a talk with Emilia, things would get better and better. He said it was the first time he was calmed from his manic mood without just being drugged and shut up. And the first time he actually had a proper talk when he was feeling low and worthless about himself.

Right after she checked on him a bit, hoping she wouldn't get caught by his actual psychologist, she could go do whatever was her heart's main desire.

Which was, in fact, going on a night date with Lovisa. Something they had planned ever since Emilia confessed to the Norwegian girl that she wanted to try it out and see how it felt being with her.

It was a scary thought, but it was all a part of experimenting and trying new things. Perhaps she'd like it.

Neither of them were dressed for the occasion, since they still had their work uniforms on, but that didn't serve them a problem. Their plan was to stop by Emilia's place, put on some nice clothes (all from the Icelander's closet, at this point sharing was a common occurrence) and then go to a fancy restaurant for some late night dining. This was one of those moments in which they regretted they didn't work night shifts, and instead had to spend their entire day at work. But most of the time they didn't mind.

Emilia knocked on the psychiatrist's door, and after she heard a confident 'come in' from the other side, that was exactly what she did. Lovisa was sitting at her desk, typing in the last things she needed to do on her computer before getting up and greeting the other with a hug. She wished it was a kiss, but was still too shy for such a thing.

"You ready to go?" The Icelandic girl asked with an honest smile on her face.

"Hell yeah I am." Lovisa replied, chuckling at her own excitement. This was going to be a great night, and she knew it. She felt it.

The ride to Emilia's place didn't last long, and they arrived at the apartment quicker than they could blink. It wasn't really teleportation or speed driving, but the fact they were both really excited. And when someone's in a high mood, life is sped up, quicker, simply better.

Entering the apartment with a wish to quickly throw on some clothes and leave for their date at nearly midnight, they ran in and instantly went for the wardrobe. Which was full. Emilia almost got used to buying clothing for two. It helped that their sizes were nearly the same, or exactly the same, it depended on the type of clothes.

"How about we surprise each other with what we're going to wear? So we don't look until we're done." Lovisa proposed an idea, a small smirk forming in the corner of her lips since she had something planned and hoped that the thing she wanted to wear was still somewhere in Emilia's closet.

"Sure thing." Emilia accepted, a bit eager to see what the other was going to wear. "You're lucky my closet is big enough to be a separate room. You stand there, I'll be on the other side so you can't see me and I can't see you."

"Perfect." The Norwegian answered, hiding behind the half closed door. As soon as Emilia looked away to search for her own clothing, she started rummaging through to find the thing she wanted to wear. Which was going to be a big surprise if she found it. And once she did, she was more than happy to see it was still there - a bunad, a traditional Norwegian dress that the girls wore mostly in summer. The reason that Emilia owned was just because of all this clothes sharing that got them mixed up, so after the 17th of May, annual Day of Norway, it ended up at the Icelander's place. That was no surprise. So the other kept it, and neither of them wore it ever since, thinking it wouldn't serve a purpose. But this was an occasion for which it was definitely worth - their first date.

Finally, they both got ready, exposing to each other what they were wearing to the date tonight.

And, truth be told, neither of them disappointed each other.

Emilia was wearing a white, short sleeved t-shirt with black overalls over it, the only difference was that the bottom part weren't typical trousers, but a skirt instead, so it seemed like she was wearing a dress. And for the shoes, she went for the only thing appropriate at this time of year. Black All Star sneakers that fit with every clothing combination. Lovisa couldn't help but blush upon seeing her - she looked absolutely perfect.

On the other hand, Emilia burst into laughter.

"Why on earth are you wearing a bunad?" She chuckled as she glanced at the Norwegian girl from the top to the bottom - the dark blue dress with the white shirt underneath, and the enormously big buttons on the front near the edge that was sewn in red to contrast the darker colour. She was going to look ridiculous to everyone else in the city, but that didn't matter. If Emilia liked it, it was good.

"Norwegians wear it on special occasions, and this is certainly a special occasion. Our first date." Lovisa answered with a shy smile on her face, her cheeks turning a dusty pink from the slight embarrassment. But it was the good kind.

"I think it looks amazing on you." Emilia complimented her, which caused her to turn an even darker shade of red, if it was possible. Thanking her in Norwegian, which the other could easily understand, the two made their way out of the apartment hand in hand. One dressed particularly normal, and the other, well, standing out.

Soon enough, they found themselves in a fancy nearby restaurant, closer to the university than it was to Emilia's house, called the Union League Cafe. If Google said it was trustworthy, then they were sure it was. Well, not exactly, but it was the best source they got.

Apparently, it was just as the webpage described it. It wasn't crowded, it looked marvellous, and it seemed like the perfect place for a midnight date. Thank goodness it was still open this late.

As they got in, people couldn't help but give them a few strange looks. Okay, it was more like, everyone turned around to stare at Lovisa as the two girls were looking for a seat. And they took the one in the corner so they wouldn't get as much attention, yet they still did. It was simply strange, and even if people didn't hate it - in fact, it was quite nice looking - it was interesting to observe something new and unknown. Perhaps Lovisa was the new New Haven trendsetter. Which was highly unlikely, but, a girl can dream.

They made themselves comfortable at the table in the corner, and it didn't take more than a minute for a waitress to arrive and ask them for their orders. Emilia asked for a cheesecake, while Lovisa ordered pancakes. Not the best midnight meals, but they didn't want to take on anything too rough. And they both needed some sugar after a long, intense work day.

Soon enough, the two girls got lost in conversation as they waited for their food to arrive, talking about every random topic that came to their mind - from work, to politics, and to, of course, the now unforbidden topic of romance. Everything seemed casual, normal, the conversation was flowing and they felt as if they were getting closer to each other with each word that was being said.

At one point, a thought flashed in Emilia's mind that made her a tiny bit confused - perhaps this dating thing wouldn't be too bad.

Did that mean she liked Lovisa? Or was it all just confusion from experimenting?

She wasn't so sure, but it didn't take her long to figure it out.

At one point, they leaned over the table and found each other a bit too close to each other, their faces only a couple of centimeters away. It was a perfect moment to make a move and take things to the next level, and Emilia had the confidence to do it, although she wasn't sure if she was ready for such a thing. She had never kissed a girl before. And Lovisa knew that all too well, which made it more than a tiny bit awkward for the two of them.

Emilia felt like being a tease that night, though. She didn't get many opportunities to act that way, and this was a perfect one. "What are you waiting for?" She said with a smirk plastered on her face, and Lovisa took it as a challenge. Who was she to tease her like that? That was simply unacceptable!

But again, something was stopping to do it as simply as that. "But, a-are you sure--" she stuttered out the words, biting her lip and making eye contact with Emilia's eyes, such a soft and loving expression in them. It always was, but now it was more than usual. Which made Lovisa more than a little hopeful.

"I'm your girlfriend, Lovisa. You can kiss me." The Icelander smiled, finally verbally expressing that they could, in fact, do it, and they shouldn't be scared. Even though she didn't want to admit it, she was a bit scared as well. First times were always frightening.

But the words were all that Lovisa needed.

The next thing Emilia felt were the Norwegian girl's soft lips pressed against her own in the gentlest manner, and it felt magnificent. Better than any kiss she had ever experienced. And once they knew that, they both wanted more. Lovisa placed her hands on Emilia's shoulders, pulling away for a single second, gasping for air, and in that specific moment, their eyes met once again, and it was the best thing each of them had ever felt. Heartbeat sped up, cheeks redder than ever, it felt like it was only the two of them and there was no one else in the world. The soft music playing in the background and the clinking of glasses just made everything so much more real, so much better, because it made both of them suddenly aware that this was actually happening. They were kissing. Hands on their shoulders. Forehead against forehead. Heart to heart, and soul to soul. A true connection formed, and neither of them could deny it. It simply felt so... Right.

"I love you." Emilia whispered, surprising herself at the words she said. And surprising Lovisa even more. She never thought that it would be the Icelander who would say it first.

"I love you, too."

It felt so right, and that's just how it was.

Simply perfect.


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

Three days before the end of the college year

"You know, I've kind of missed Alfred ever since he left the hospital. I just want to go back to Yale so I could see him again. He was so nice to me, unlike anyone I've met before!"

"Isabella, you've been saying that for days. I think we all know it by now."

"Shush, let her talk. I get that love problems are hard."

"Who ever said I was in love?!"

Group therapy was interesting a lot of the times, especially for Emilia who got to see her patients grow into better people, find themselves, solve their problems with her and each other, make friends, and slowly get back on their feet. But sometimes, it could get dramatic. Especially when a crazy little thing called love got in the way. Isabella talked about Alfred quite a lot since he left for college again. And Feliciano was pretty sick of it by now, but Emilia kept encouraging her to talk. Here and there she would tease her for being in love, yet the Danish girl would deny it every time. She had a fair point to deny it - she had only been around Alfred for a month while they were both at the hospital, and they just got to see each other during group therapy sessions and at breakfast. Which usually wasn't the most pleasant thing, in a big hall full of patients who liked to quarrell or physically fight. They never had a second of alone time, yet she still felt as if he had a connection with her.

Platonic, she thought. It was all platonic.

But Emilia was still a big tease.

It was going to be a wild day for Isabella. She was getting discharged out of the hospital three days earlier than she had first thought. Before she met Alfred, her goal was to stay here as long as possible so she wouldn't have to move to Denmark like her brother Mathias did, but now she wanted to go back, and Emilia didn't see why not. Neither did Lovisa, who was more in charge of it than the young psychologist.

The Icelander gave Isabella all the attention during this group therapy session, meaning she got to hug all the others as a way of saying goodbye, they shared their last thoughts and experiences, and she told every single one of them how much they mean to her. Every word she said was true. She had been here for quite a long time, and these people were kind of like a second family. Emilia was nearly her best friend, a person she looked up to - her bright smiles and optimism that shined through, well, Isabella wanted that, too.

There was no doubt, she was getting better than she was when she was first admitted here, which was involuntary, forced, with a lot of kicking and screaming. The fact that she was able to transform into this happier person who smiled a lot was incredible - she could find her old personality, her true self. Now it was time to share it with other people. For example Alfred, who seemed like he was still stuck at his lowest point when he was leaving. Emotionally, even physically tired. It hurt her to know he was suffering, and she was feeling renewed. Her instincts just guided her towards helping him, and she couldn't say no.

After the therapy session was finished, she went back to the room she had stayed in for such a long time, to the point that she actually learned to love it. Emilia helped her, of course, and they gathered all her things, gently folded her clothing, put all her things - which were mostly books - in the bags... The packing was followed by the same old, boring procedure that every patient had to go through, including Alfred. Pictures of useless inkblots, psychological tests that she actually scored well on, unlike him. But again, no one gave a shit about those, they were just a formal part of the routine that everyone had to do. In Julia's office, she was asked a couple of questions and then she could finally go.

The only problem was, the person who signed as her caretaker wasn't currently residing in this country.

"We didn't think about this when Mathias was leaving", Isabella sighed, leaning back into the chair of the Swedish girl's office. Emilia stood right next to her, the tension between the two girls spreading through the room like wildfire. Great, now she had to be in the same room as Julia for more than only three minutes.

"Well, do you have someone else who you trust enough to pick you up?" The psychologist asked with patience.

"I don't really have friends at college or in the near."

"Then I'm taking you there." Emilia made a decision before anyone else could change her mind. "I know I shouldn't leave the hospital when I'm on duty, but if no one else can help you get back to Yale, I will."

"You don't have to do that for me..." Isabella said, almost in a whisper, and Emilia couldn't help but chuckle a little underneath her breath, not related to this particular situation at all.

Hm, I wonder where else I've heard those words, she thought to herself, before turning her attention back to the Danish girl.

"But I want to." She answered, holding out her hand so Isabella could take it. "Come on, let's go. You've got a long day ahead of you", she added with an honest smile on her face, and Isabella couldn't refuse that easily. After all, the psychologist was one of the only people that she trusted with her life. Perhaps the only person, even. She had never had such a close relationship with her family, especially her brother who seemed as if he was ashamed her since her first mental breakdown. Sure, he cared about her. And loved her. But it was always with a careful distance, and she never liked that. As if there was an imaginary, invisible border between the two of them since she first had to go to a psychiatrist.

Isabella only got to carry one of her bags, since Emilia felt like being really helpful and carried the rest of them (no matter how heavy they were, she pretended they were as light as a feather) towards the dormitory building. They were both really thankful that the hospital was so close to the university, which made it easier for the students who struggled with any kind of problem, whether it was mental or physical.

"Are you sure it's not a problem to carry all that?" The Danish girl asked, worried for the other. But Emilia kept denying it. After all, it wasn't as if they had a long way to go or anything.

"It's like a ten minute walk, I'll be alright." She chuckled, taking a deep breath, but made it seem unnoticeable.

Soon enough, they were in front of the building, and Emilia offered to help her get checked in and also get comfortable in the room she used to spend most of her time in. Isabella didn't see this place in quite a while, and she was suddenly scared that once she got in, there was a chance that no one would want to be around her anymore, everyone would know she was mental and they'd stay away. Just as Alfred felt when he was going back. If only he was there, to tell her everything would be fine... Like he did a lot of the times they saw each other while at the hospital. Despite his own problems which were twice as bad at the moment, he would go out of the way to talk to her and listen to every struggle she was willing to share.

Emilia easily spotted her hesitation to get in, and it was completely understandable. She could bet a million that Alfred had the same feeling. Before Isabella could even say a word about how she felt, the Icelander spoke first. "You know... It's okay to be afraid. I think I'd be scared to come back to college after spending eight months in a hospital. Or anywhere else, really. But I bet there is a big part of you who can't wait to get back in there and meet people, get in touch with those who you used to be with, and be closer to Alfred. The one who subconsciously made you come here in the first place. Who knows what could happen between you two. And I know you wouldn't want to miss out on it."

As she was speaking, Isabella listened carefully to each word that was being said, clinging onto it as if it was some kind of lifeboat, the only thing that she could rely on to survive in there. "You're right... I asked to be let out earlier, I shouldn't be dramatic about it." She let out a tired exhale, leaning against the wall of the building as the students passed by them, only giving them a couple of questioning glances.

"You aren't being dramatic. It's perfectly reasonable to feel like this. But you have to step over this fear and just get in! Instead of being taken by the storm, be the storm. Shatter the walls and break the doors. Well, not literally. That'd be bad. But metaphorically, that works pretty well. Be the wind, don't let the wind carry you."

It was so interesting to watch Emilia's eyes sparkle as she got passionate with making her speeches as inspirational as she could while carrying a couple of really heavy bags, taking even heavier breaths. She was unstoppable, kind of like the storms she was talking about, but stronger. Nothing's more powerful than emotions, empathy, love and compassion. And it always reached Isabella's heart. No wonder her patients loved her, and there was no surprise in how quickly Ivan's mental state was changing once he started secretly talking to her. Ever since their first talk, he didn't meddle into any of the patients' lives.

The brown haired girl looked at Emilia with a shy smile on her face, her sky blue eyes suddenly filled with determination. She was going to do it. "Thank you." She said in an honest voice, wishing she could hug Emilia right there. And she did, once the other dropped the bags on the floor without meaning to. It was no big deal, and they both wanted the same thing anyway. Laughing in each other's embrace, both of them realized that they were going to miss each other. They had a good friendship, neither of them wanted it to end here.

"You never have to thank me, you know that." The Icelander commented, hugging her for a few more seconds - it wasn't awkward for them whatsoever, it was a goodbye hug. Unfortunately. That was the bittersweet part of it. "Now let's get you back to your dorm room."

But things weren't that easy, or they were simply out of luck, possibly to the point of frustration from the Danish girl. Upon finding out that the room she used to stay in was taken by a new student, she was pretty much devastated. And worried that she wouldn't be able to go back if there were no free rooms in this dormitory.

Luckily, it wasn't all grey. There was a room with one free bed and a person who didn't have a roommate, right on the second floor. Apparently, the student who she was going to share her room with was Irish, and her name was Lisa. She knew her, perhaps only by saying hi to each other in the hallways once in a million years. But the name seemed familiar.

The whole process had to be done really quickly, that the Irish girl didn't even get a chance to be notified that someone else was moving in.

Once they arranged it, it meant that Emilia's time here was done. Which, ultimately, lead to the absolute, final goodbye. But not a farewell. It was never a farewell.

"I'm going to miss you." Isabella whispered over to the psychologist, and Emilia could only smile, both with happiness and sadness at the same time, a confusing feeling she couldn't truly analyze. She was glad that someone she took care of for eight months was finally able to function on her own. But she was certainly going to miss their existential talks, banter, even the occasional jokes.

"I'll miss you, too." She responded in a solemn tone of voice. "Take care, Isabella."

\- - -

Soon enough, Isabella found herself on the desired destination, the second floor. She wouldn't admit it for the life of her, but she was scared of what her future roommate would think of her - would the Irish girl think she was crazy or would they get along just perfectly?

Perhaps she wouldn't tell her she just got out of the mental hospital. She could lie and say she moved back from Denmark, and hide her medication deep in her purse. Who said Lisa needed to know? And after all, her symptoms were nearly unnoticeable at this point. Except of being spaced out from time to time and sometimes forgetting to laugh when it was appropriate, nothing was suspicious.

Oh god, she's going to hate me, she thought to herself in fear as she brought the heavy bags towards the door of her new room. One of the workers who helped her carry them upstairs unlocked the door for her, and Lisa, who was notified only minutes ago that she'd get a new person to share the room with, was already on her feet, greeting her happily and taking her in.

Well,that didn't go half as badly as she thought it would.

"I'm so happy to have a new roommate! Since I've first lived alone, it was boring. Welcome to my lair!" The Irish girl laughed, and Isabella couldn't help but do the same. It was overwhelming to be back, to be surrounded by new people, some she had never met before, some she was scared of, some that were scared of her. Luckily, Lisa seemed like a great girl from the first second she saw her.

"Thank you..." Isabella said shyly, putting her things next to the desk they were going to share. The redheaded girl just kept smiling, and it looked honest, wholehearted, something that the Danish girl really needed to see upon coming back to college. She was glad, felt lucky in a way, perhaps this was better for her health than going back to her old dorm room that could have reminded her of the bad memories such as the first time she ever had a breakdown, and everything connected to it. The voices, even the visions.

After the two spent some time together unpacking and genuinely talking about anything that came to mind, Isabella suggested that they visit the cafeteria upstairs, an old place where she loved to gather with her friends - the people who used to be so close to her, until they found out she was schizophrenic. They never visited her at the hospital, never answered her calls.

She was more than sure that if she ever saw them somewhere in the dormitory, they would be ashamed to look at her.

On the other hand, she had Lisa, who didn't know where she came from and didn't have a clue about the past she was ashamed of. It was so strange, people from different floors barely knew each other.

As Lisa and Isabella left the room, both with wide smiles on their faces, it didn't take the Danish girl more than a couple of seconds to stop in her tracks in surprise - something, or rather someone quite familiar was standing right across their room, talking to someone else who she didn't recognize.

It took her no more or less than two seconds to realize who it was that made her stand there foolishly in the middle of walking towards the cafeteria - it was Alfred. It was really him, he was there, her reason for getting here early.

Lisa stood with a bit of confusion on her face, glancing sideways at Isabella as she stared at the boy across the hall.

"I know he's good looking, but you know, he's gay.", she commented in a whisper, but Isabella barely heard it. And even if she did, it'd go over her head faster than an airplane, but less noticeable.

Then it happened. He was looking around, laughing because of something this other person said, another guy who strangely looked like him, but much taller. And their eyes suddenly met across the room. Sky blue to sapphire blue, both so deep and connected without even knowing.

Both Alfred and Isabella felt as if time stopped, and only they were in the room, nothing and no one else. A small, shy smile formed in the corner of her lips, and Alfred just awkwardly chuckled, the chuckle turning into a heart warming grin. He was happy to see her back, it was quite unexpected, but the best surprise that he could have gotten.

"You know him?" Lisa asked in surprise, and Isabella took more than a moment to regain her thoughts and answer.

"We met at the--" She wanted to say, but remembered she was keeping everything a secret. Her look was still focused on Alfred, and his was on her, yet no one made the first move.

"Don't tell me you two met each other at the psych ward." The Irish girl said a little bit too loudly, catching Alfred's and Matthew's attention as well. Once he heard that, the younger American knew it was probably awkward for Isabella, which was the perfect time to get her out of the situation and step in.

Alfred took a couple of steps forward, knowing he needed to be the first one to do something about this and step out of his comfort zone, otherwise none of them would try to speak each other.

He approached her lightly, and she was frozen once again, not moving or saying a single word, while Lisa looked at them like they were both insane. "Actually, she's the sister of my ex roommate." He clarified for the Irish girl, who just mouthed a silent 'oh' and pretended to believe them. But Alfred was so obvious, and a horrible liar. His face said everything, his eyes gave away the secret.

As soon as he heard him say it, it was all clear in Matthew's head. So that was Isabella, the girl Alfred kept talking about ever since they had the soulmate talk. The girl who could have been his soulmate. And it seemed like it, by the way they were both suddenly hypnotized and staring at each other when their eyes first met. It was lovely to watch, and it could have been perfect. Just like in romance movies - they could have ran up to each other and embraced one another, kissing passionately... But Alfred was still in a relationship. Whether he wanted to or not, he still didn't say a word to Arthur about how he was feeling. They were just cold around each other, sometimes kissed but it was never loving. At least not to Alfred.

"I'll leave you two to it," Lisa said with an expression that showed even more confusion than before. "Since I assume you don't want to get coffee." She kept talking, but it wasn't like the Danish girl noticed her. "Alright, alright... God, you two are acting like you're in love."

"Oh, well..." Matthew whispered to himself, smiling secretly as he was looking at Alfred and Isabella already taking a different direction of their own, getting lost in their little world. "You never know."

Lisa and Matthew were both left awestruck at how quick it happened, but they couldn't blame the two. It was obvious they missed each other and were more than happy to see each other's faces again. The only thing they could do was let them go, let them talk and enjoy the moments they had together. Matthew understood much better how happy this made his brother, to finally see the girl who he believed was his true soulmate after he had done a lot of thinking, rethinking and overthinking about Arthur.

Alfred awkwardly walked alongside the Dane, wondering when was the right time to confess how much he actually missed her. Or whether it was better to keep that feeling to himself. He was quite emotionally expressive, wore his heart on his sleeve, but this was... Different. He really believed they were meant to be together.

"Where exactly are we going?" She asked, laughing at their aimless walking down the hallway. They certainly got carried away, almost to the point of forgetting where they were. Not that they minded.

"Wherever you want." He answered in a calm tone, an obvious smile playing on his lips, he couldn't hide it whatsoever. It was just overwhelming, his heart was racing and he could feel his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. For a second, he felt like a highschool boy in love. Well, the second part was correct. Perhaps he wasn't sure of it before, but ever since he saw her again, every doubt was gone. He was in love with her. They said that eyes were the windows to someone's soul, and his definitely were.

"It doesn't really matter, as long as we're together." Isabella said, but instantly regretted it - did it sound like she was flirting? That sounded like something two lovers would say to each other, and she was worried that she would make things awkward. But she couldn't help it, her heart spoke before her head and she didn't even have the time to think through the words that were slipping out of her.

Luckily, it wasn't awkward at all. In fact, it just made Alfred's heart skip a couple of beats and made him think he had palpitations, but all in a good way. He wished he could get closer to her, and he wanted to hold her hand so badly... Yet it was a bit risky. He didn't want to be caught by Arthur or anyone else who would find it suspicious. Which, since his life was still partially dictated by his paranoia, could be anyone.

But who cares about the risks?

They were both hopeless romantics, thinking that there was no stronger force than love. And believed that strongly. It was as if they were on the same wave length, and without thinking, they took each other's hand with only a little bit of hesitation, their eyes meeting and they smiled at each other once again. It was all in the softest possible manner, and both of their hearts were jumping like crazy.

Walking alongside each other hand in hand was much better. And it was gentle, they felt loved, that was all that mattered.

If only perfect moments could last forever.

As they floated above the clouds together, unaware of what was truly happening, but at the same time knowingly smiling, they heard a voice from the outside that suddenly brought them back to the ground with its sharpness and from the sheer surprise of having their moment interrupted. Alfred silently cursed the universe under his breath.

It was Arthur. Of course something like that was going to happen. The world just couldn't give them luck for a single second.

Without knowing, they were still holding each other's hands, now staring at the man in front of them - Isabella was confused about who he was, and Alfred was petrified. And that was an understatement.

"Alfred, who is this?" The Brit asked in a sharp, angry tone of voice, crossing his arms and standing in front of them with his lips pursed together.

And the world stopped spinning.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

"Alfred, who is this?"

Arthur stared at the two people holding hands in front of him with a furious look on his face, his arms crossed and his lips pursed together in shock and awe of what was happening. He didn't exactly know what, but it was enough to look in Alfred's eyes to understand that they were full of love, and it wasn't towards him. And this girl holding his boyfriend's hand, whoever she was, she just had to have the same look in her blue eyes, a colour lighter than Alfred's.

As much as he was rethinking himself whether he still had feelings for Alfred since he had changed so drastically and had gone into therapy for a month, it was more than a little heartbreaking to see him turn to someone else so quickly. The Brit would never admit it was him who fucked it up this time and froze the frequency on which they connected. He made it colder with his icy glares and sarcastic remarks, and the fact that he didn't give Alfred all the support he needed through everything he had to experience. Which was major, difficult, and he couldn't bear it on his own. He didn't realize how much it affected the young American whenever he told him that he was overdramatic, or looking for attention, and whenever he pushed him to go to class and work while he was barely able to stop crying and get out of bed. It hurt, and it made Alfred drift apart from Arthur, almost creating this invisible border that stopped him from loving the Englishman with all the love he held in his body and mind - and there was a lot, with his idealistic soul of a hopeless romantic.

Arthur's mind didn't have the capacity to place himself in the category of the one to blame, and he believed it was, in fact, Alfred. It was Alfred who made it difficult with his psychotic delusions, disorganized behavior, mood swings, emotional instability, hallucinations, irrational fears, constant paranoia... It was definitely Alfred. To Arthur, that made sense. Even though at the start, he was supportive, it was like an empathy switch in his brain turned off once the problems started getting more and more difficult to handle, like Alfred almost taking his life, or nearly changing his entire personality and isolating himself for the most part.

So as he looked at the two holding hands, he only thought how it was Alfred Jones to blame for loving another person. Seeing the scared look on his face didn't help him empathize either, only made his heart clench in his chest, almost from annoyance at the fear.

"This is my... This is my friend Isabella." Alfred said in a frightened tone of voice, holding the girl's hand even tighter than before out of sheer reflex. She didn't mind, rather intertwined their fingers together and bit her lip as she stared back at Arthur, who she had heard a lot about in group therapy from Alfred who constantly talked about how much he missed him. Well, things had changed, apparently.

"So you're just holding hands with a girl and looking all loving while I'm away? I wouldn't be surprised if you kissed, either!" Arthur was more than bad at keeping his temper in, especially when he felt as if his inner feeling was insulted. Just like now.

"Maybe I wouldn't be like this if you payed attention to my feelings more than your own!" Alfred shouted back, something in his stomach turning, the uncomfortable, tightening feeling spreading all throughout his body making his heart race, breath almost hitch in his throat and his vision blurring. He didn't want this to happen. He didn't wish to anger Arthur again, that wasn't his intention. "I have a right to love whoever I want as much as you do!"

Isabella felt uneasy, glancing from Alfred to Arthur and not knowing exactly what to do in a situation like this. She didn't know who to trust, but she knew one thing - if the shouts escalate into something more, she'd be on the American's side.

"You're a fucking idiot, do you know that, Alfred?" The Brit's raging voice echoed through the hallways, and Alfred was close to freezing in place at the words.

"I know. Trust me, I know. But at least I still have more common sense than you. You always blame me for everything I do, you made me believe that it's all my fault even when there's that sensible part of me that knows it's not." The younger had to take sharp breaths to keep himself calm and collected, and perhaps if Isabella wasn't there, he'd already lash out on the other physically. His body lightly trembling, filled with the rush of anger and fear to the brim and engulfed with the aura of discomfort, he just wished he could take it out on someone. But that would be immoral, and he was lucky enough to have his inner morals and values constantly reminding him of the rights and wrongs so he was never really potential danger to anyone.

"You? Common sense? As if!" Arthur spat out, bitterly chuckling and shaking his head. "Don't you understand you're making everyone's life more difficult than it already is? When I first came here, you promised you'd show me the best of this world. But instead, you were always a burden to the people around you. Making Matthew sleepless of concern, making me agitated with the daily breakdowns, making Adrienne worried, Elizabeta stressed out, everyone just wants to make sure that Alfred Jones isn't dead or suffering. They would give up everything to help you, and you do nothing in return but act even worse. Stop being a bloody nuisance, alright?!" He got a step closer to the frightened american, trying his best not to push him back.

Alfred was simply speechless. He knew that he was a burden to the ones he loved, and he hated it. Yet now when it was vocalized, it hurt even more. It wasn't just the voices convincing him into believing that, it was an actual person, which meant it had to be true. He couldn't move a muscle, he only stared at something (whether at Arthur or at nothing, he didn't even know that himself) and took short, sharp breaths almost to the point where it seemed like hyperventilation.

"I've said it before, but I never meant it as much as I do now. I'm done with you, Alfred." The Brit ended his monologue with those words, pushing past Alfred and Isabella with rough movements and marching away down the hall, leaving behind a lingering feeling of fury.

Isabella looked at Alfred sympathetically, knowing how much it hurt to be called a nuisance, something she experienced herself many times in the past. She didn't hold his hand anymore, but instead gently placed her hands on his shoulders, letting him lean into her embrace.

And he cried. He cried his eyes out, failing as he attempted to stifle his sobs, and she held him tightly, understanding every single tear that rolled down his cheek and why it was there, why it needed to fall. They didn't say a single word to each other, only the sound of shaky breaths and crying could be heard, and nothing needed to be said in the first place. The only thing that mattered was that Isabella was there for him, and she was sure that the feeling she held for Alfred ever since she saw him was no longer platonic. He felt the same.

But the American was scared nonetheless. Of going back to his own dorm room, because he shared with Arthur. Afraid of looking the Brit in the eyes ever again, and most of all, afraid of seeing the people he loved, because maybe Arthur was right, and his sole presence made them stressed out.

It took him ten or more minutes to finally regain his composure and slowly stop crying, taking deep breaths and feeling the warmth that radiated from Isabella that helped him get back a bit of his previous stability, the one he had before Arthur crashed him back to the ground. Once he wiped off the last tear from his blushing cheeks, Isabella looked him straight in the eyes, smiling shyly and sympathetically as her eyes glistened with love.  
Alfred couldn't help it, something inside of him burned and yearned for it, and the next thing he knew was that his lips were pressed against Isabella's in the softest possible manner - the only thing that existed in the world was the two of them. She was kissing back tenderly, hands on his shoulders, melting into the feeling as much as he did. It was simply perfect, that's what it was, and there wasn't a different way to describe it.

All those kisses with Arthur that he thought were the true kisses of a soulmate couldn't even compare to this one kiss with Isabella. They were made for each other, there was no other way. And this time, both of them believed it.

"I'll help you get through this", she whispered against his lips as they pulled away for breath, and Alfred didn't know until now that these exact words coming from this exact person were what he needed to keep going. All of that tension he felt spread through his body earlier had dissipated. At least for a moment, he was at peace.

So was she, knowing that Alfred was there and she had the ability to help him, to love him, to be next to him, hold his hand and show him he wasn't alone.

\- - -

For the rest of the day, Alfred didn't feel like going back to his dorm room. He needed to be away from Arthur for a while, and was more than sure that the Brit felt the same. Once the other fell asleep, he would go back, which was going to be late in the evening, but Alfred didn't mind waiting. In the meantime, he wanted to introduce Isabella to his friend group, since she'd love to meet them, and with friends around her, she wouldn't feel like an outcast in college.

Still, it took a great deal of convincing to get Alfred to talk to the ones he loved after what Arthur had taught him to believe about being nothing but a burden on everyone's lives which were already hard enough to live. She was able to do it, though, with a talk and a kiss or two, and the two made their way over to Matt's and Adrienne's dorm room - it turned out that Liz and Gilbert were already there, sharing a drink or two and having a chat.

What Alfred didn't know was that the little conversation that his friends were having was about him and Arthur, and how they saw the Englishman furiously running down the hall while Alfred was nowhere to be seen. And once the American knocked on the door and got one step into the room, their voices quieted for a second so he wouldn't hear what was being said. They turned their faces towards Alfred and Isabella who stood at the door, smiling and greeting them as if nothing was happening.

Elizabeta and Gilbert weren't exactly sure who the girl was, but from Adrienne's and Matthew's mentions, they could suspect it was the mysterious Isabella that Alfred was supposedly in love with. And their assumption was proven correct once she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, Isabella," the Hungarian girl spoke up, and everyone else was also quite welcoming. She was offered to take a seat next to Alfred who sat himself on the bed as soon as they got in, so that was what she did.

While the group instantly started chatting their time away with Isabella, the girl having very little to no social anxiety at all, which was a surprise even for her, Matthew used that opportunity to pull Alfred aside for a second and ask him, in a nearly silent tone of voice, what the hell was going on with Arthur and him, since he had rarely seen the Brit in such distress, as if he was washed by fury and stress.

"You need to tell me what happened. Did he hurt you?" The older American protectively put an arm around Alfred as they sat on the edge of the bed together, away from the group just enough to somewhat stay in tune with the conversation, but also not to be overheard as they quietly spoke. The others didn't bat an eye as they saw them keep their distance, knowing it was probably serious and important - especially because of Matthew's radiating protectiveness that was noticeable from miles away.

"He broke up with me, but you can hardly call me hurt after everything that's been happening between us," Alfred shrugged, not including the detail of him crying his soul out after Arthur told him that he was nothing but a burden to all of them. Well, that was a part of the story he could keep to himself. He didn't want Arthur to get killed, after all.

"Thank goodness it's finally over between you two. I was worried for you, it was a really unhealthy relationship." Matthew let out a sigh of relief, and Alfred couldn't help but inwardly frown at the fact that he was worried for him. As if he deserved someone thinking about him, being concerned for his well being... He didn't think he did.

"I'd have done it if he didn't, because I really, really like Isabella. And she likes me, too."

"I'm really happy for you, Alfred."

Not even those words could warm the younger American's heart. Instead, he pushed them away from him, thinking that they weren't for him. Matthew shouldn't have been happy for him, he didn't deserve that either. Yet he gladly accepted the hug he received from his older brother before the two shifted to the left on the bed so they could be more connected to the group once again. Isabella seemed to get along great with everyone, laughing along with their jokes as if she was here for a century. Unlike Arthur when he first joined them - he felt as if he didn't belong.

Once Alfred caught eye contact with the Danish girl again, he could only smile and lean against her, as though everything was alright because she was there, he was loved by her and nothing could take that away from him. Not Arthur, not the voices in his mind, not any of his fears.

After all, love is the strongest force of them all.


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

Graduation day

It wasn't easy to sleep through the night without excitement creeping on them and waking them up every ten minutes just to remind their tired minds that they were going to leave the university forever, that this was the last page of the story of their college life. Adrienne barely closed her eyes, there was so much to think about, while Matthew tossed and turned on the bed until he almost fell to the floor along with the pillow and the blanket from the graduation anxiety.

Alfred didn't get much sleep either, knowing that one of his best friends and his brother weren't going to be a few rooms away anymore after today - instead, they were going to get a place together and soon enough start a family of their own. It was a scary thought, and as much as he was happy for them, fear couldn't help but clench his fragile heart in his chest.

Oh lord, it was going to be a long day.

At six in the morning, Adrienne was already up on her feet to prepare what she was going to wear for the afterparty, having troubles picking out the perfect dress and matching it with a hairstyle she wanted. And shoes, of course. Shoes were important as well. Today, she was going to officially become a college graduate, she'd receive a degree in French and French Literature, meaning she could soon get employed as a French teacher at a high school, something that she had wanted to do for as long as she remembered, while Matthew would get a degree in quantum physics, since he dropped theoretical physics on his second year and went in a different direction he seemed to be more interested in. Science was something he always loved and wanted to stay true to. Whether teaching it to children, becoming a college professor or working on actual projects, he didn't know what exactly he wanted to do yet. But there was time to think about that. Perhaps he could work shoulder to shoulder with Adrienne at the same school.

As soon as she got out of bed, Matthew didn't take long either. But instead of preparing an outfit, he prepared mentally. "How do you even stay so calm?" He asked the girl, placing a hand over his chest as he felt his heart almost rapidly beating, and nothing had even begun yet. "I'm going to have a panic attack before, during, and after the damn graduation party."

"Don't worry. There are thousands of other panicking college graduates screaming in their pillows at Yale today. So I decided to be the one pretending that I'm calm when in reality I can feel my soul squeezing my heart and my stomach rotating inwardly every ten seconds." Adrienne replied with a chuckle, covering her face with both of her hands as she tiredly yawned before averting her gaze back to the closet she frantically rummaged through.

"Do you also feel like someone's repeatedly stabbing your head with a kitchen knife?" The American added on to the metaphorical descriptions of inner pain and panic that they all felt on this day.

"Pretty much so." She shrugged, almost disappearing in the endless pile of clothing deep within their shared closet. They were both people of fashion, Adrienne more than Matthew, but she had almost forgotten how much they were actually spending on pieces of cloth sewn together that just happened to look great on them. Perhaps she should have reconsidered things before owning so many dresses in different shapes, sizes and colours.

Nah, who was she kidding. It was one of her favourite things in life. And if it wasn't for French Literature luring her in with its beauty and dreaminess, she would have gone for a study in the field of design.

Matthew decided it was best for him to help her choose the correct piece of clothing to wear as a way of calming himself down as well. His anxiety levels were certainly over the roof, and with thousands of worries on his mind, this was the best option to bring himself back to earth.

Of course, with their indecisiveness, it took them the entire morning to get to the perfect outfit for her. For the American, it was easier - he put on a simple grey suit over a white shirt, and a red tie around his neck as if he was going on a business meeting, not his college graduation. Adrienne kept telling him it was too formal, but he wouldn't budge. The decision was there. On the other hand, she went for a white dress with navy blue stripes all over it, a bit too tacky for Matthew's taste. He commented it would give the other graduates a seizure, but she just laughed and casually observed how nice the clothing item fit her in the mirror.

In the end, who cared about the dress? They were a bit less stressed, ready to go, and they shone with more confidence than when they first woke up.

Meanwhile in Alfred's and Arthur's dorm room, things weren't looking up. As the younger boy woke up early (didn't sleep at all, but the Brit didn't have to know that part), Arthur was annoyed with the rustling he started hearing around the room at around seven. That was the hour at which Alfred decided he was sick of staring at the ceiling and needed to take action and get ready for the graduation commencement that started at eleven. He had to be there for Matthew and Adrienne, no matter how hard it was to get out of bed with the fear and anxiety pressing on his head.

He also had to do other important things before it started, such as go to the hospital for his monthly shot of medication. If he missed that, serious, damaging shit would happen and it'd be his fault for forgetting.

"What are you up to?" Arthur mumbled tiredly and rolled around on the bed to face Alfred who was at his desk picking up an old shirt that was messily thrown over his laptop so he could put it on. "It's still so early..." He added as he checked his phone and rubbed the drowsiness out of his eyes.

Truth be told, the two of them weren't on best terms, well, ever, but ever since the breakup had occurred, there had been unresolved tension between them lingering in the air at all times driving both of them insane, yet neither wanted to admit to that. Arthur saw Alfred hang out with Isabella around the dormitory or in the cafeteria, and it wasn't a nice feeling whatsoever.

Especially because he kind of felt guilty for hurting the boy. At least a little bit. Only after everything was over, he realized that him saying Alfred was an attention seeker, untrustworthy or worse was some majorly bad influence on the American's already deteriorating mental health. To say he was going to Yale to become a psychologist... Well, he was ashamed of himself. But he didn't want Alfred back, he didn't even have romantic feelings for him as much as he did when they first got together - he just wanted to apologize. He was constantly apologizing in his head, but never mustered up enough courage to actually approach him and say everything he meant.

Upon hearing the Brit's tired voice, Alfred turned his head around quickly to reply to him as he was changing into the old, unwashed shirt that stood on the desk. He threw the pyjamas on the floor and thought about a good response for a couple of seconds. "I wasn't tired, so I got up early." He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Arthur was inspecting his every movement for some time, getting lost in a train of thought before he finally found words to speak. "Alfred, that's a filthy t-shirt. Get a clean one."

"Right, I kinda maybe ran out of clean clothes." The other gave a near silent chuckle, to which Arthur rolled his eyes. "I know, I know... I've just been a bit lazy with hygiene lately, but I'll work on that. At least I noticed that flaw, so that's good."

"Go take a shower, I'll get you something from my closet that could be your size." He muttered a reply and got up in hefty movements, stretching his arms before standing up and yawning into his hand. He was satisfied in himself for offering some help to Alfred. It was something he hadn't done often lately, and it made the younger utterly perplexed, his eyebrows furrowing for a second and his body stopping in his tracks. But instead of giving him a remark about how he didn't need any of that, he gave an obedient nod and headed outside towards the shared bathroom that was just the door next to the room. Thankfully, the shower was free at the moment.

He took off his clothes, placing them aside, and got into the shower. As he let the warm water stream over him, something he hadn't experienced in a couple of days, he could feel the negative ions on his body wash down the drain, as if he was able to watch them go, like they were visible by the human eye. He hadn't simply been lazy to shower, he was just unmotivated to do things, and it was obvious by the decreasing number of paintings and all the missed class projects he let sit on the side. If he was to sugarcoat it, he'd say he didn't feel as alive as he used to. But that was just the bright way of putting it. It was true, he didn't feel alive at all. He wasn't himself anymore, and was too aware of it. Every motion he did didn't seem real, like he was doing it on autopilot, and sometimes he could lie emotionlessly on the bed for hours staring at the empty ceiling (sometimes the ceiling didn't look empty to him, and he'd prefer the boring blankness to the frightening things he had seen) and wondering when it would be over. All of this. The medication, which only helped him with the visual hallucinations most of the time. The voices, which never stopped, no matter how hard he tried to shut them off. Now, instead of attempting to silence them, he taught himself to act as if they weren't there. Arthur, Matthew, Isabella and all his friends thought that they weren't there anymore, when he was just a master at hiding his pain at this point. Sometimes he thought he'd be an award winning actor if he ever got into that field of arts. Going through life meaninglessly and pretending he was getting better, just to have his late night crying-into-the-pillow sessions when Arthur was already asleep. That was the routine now. Get up, go to class, act like you're following the lesson, don't do your work, lay down, hang out with friends a little, feel like shit, lay down a bit more, watch Doctor Who, be scared of it for a few hours, and cry yourself to sleep. Every single goddamn day.

"Alfred is doing just fine lately, he doesn't have frequent breakdowns like he used to", he heard his older brother often say in a proud tone. Oh, how he had deceived them.

"I'm so glad he's not hallucinating as much as he did", Adrienne would add to the conversation, and Alfred would happily smile and nod along with the listener. They didn't know the half of it.

"The medication is working, and it's fascinating how little therapy he needed to recover!"

Recovery was something his mind didn't recognize as a word in his vocabulary. He was far from it, yet people thought he was in the process.

Not even noticing at first as they mixed with the now lukewarm water from the shower head, tears were streaming down Alfred's cheeks and he started blinking them away the best he could. But they didn't plan on stopping. He was holding in too many things, and as much as he didn't want to admit that, it was slightly easier when he could just vent out his feelings to Matthew, Adrienne, or Emilia (the last option seemed the best, most probably because she was professionally qualified for listening to people's problems). But once he decided he would stop being a burden on others and just keep it all to himself, he became a burden on his own soul.

Choking out pained sobs, he slid down the clean, white wall and curled up to his knees, the water turning to cold as he wasted it all, which the voice in his head instantly deemed as a selfish act. But he wasn't selfish now, right? He wasn't being a nuisance to the ones he loved with his problems.

Then why didn't he feel alright?

To save the rest of his self - deprecation for after the graduation ceremony, he took a shaky breath and got up again, turning off the water and grabbing the clean towel that stood on top of the bathroom cabinet to wrap it around himself and dry his hair off as well. He thought this shower would help him, and in a way, it did, by giving him a release of emotions, but on the other hand, he just felt sad and drained.

He didn't notice when it happened, but he spotted clean clothing that was surely out of Arthur's closet stand where his old, unwashed clothes stood earlier. So the Brit must have gone inside, he just didn't hear him over the loud water noise.  
The shirt seemed like something Alfred would never wear, yet it was the only thing somewhat his size that the other owned. It was dark grey, almost black, and had something written out on its collar in a different language. Nonetheless, he put it on, and then pulled on the even darker coloured skinny jeans. Jesus Christ, was Arthur still in his emo phase or what?

He decided not to use a hairdryer but just leave it like naturally like this. If nothing, it gave him little curls that he usually didn't have. Putting his glasses back on, he walked out of the bathroom as if nothing happened, like he never cried and he was just okay.

Great, now he needed to go all the way to the hospital, as if he had the mental strength to do that. Yet he was fully aware that if he didn't do that, he'd probably cause himself a psychotic breakdown during the ceremony and ruin everyone's day, including his own. So, better safe than sorry.

Half an hour later, he was back at the university, and right on time for the graduation commencement to begin. It was going to be chaotic, he knew it. The graduates were probably already organizing a party at Yale's old campus, and there seemed to be thousands of seats placed all over the grass. Of course, it's held outside, how could he have forgotten that?

He scanned through the crowd to see Matthew and Adrienne, but with every single damn graduate sitting or standing together in black robes and those square black caps, it was hard to spot them. As he tried to look for an empty seat, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around just to face two people who he had never seen before in his life. Why were they stopping him?

The woman that had her hand on his shoulder (which was quite uncomfortable, needed to add) asked him something in fluently spoken French, and he just blinked in confusion and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. The only things he understood were Alfred and Matthew, and he wondered where the people knew those names from. But as he got a closer look of the lady's eyes, they reminded him so much of Adrienne. In fact, she did entirely. His intuition was telling him they were the Canadian girl's parents, but he didn't know anything for sure.

"Uh, I don't speak French. Je ne parle pas français." He stuttered out in the worst French accent possible, that being the only phrase he knew in the language.

The people looked at each other, they obviously weren't English speakers, but they wanted to communicate with the boy - he looked lost, and they wanted to let him know he could sit next to them if he wanted to. He was basically family, or at least would be very soon once Matthew and Adrienne finally got married.

"We are parents, uh, um, to Adrienne Bonnefoy." The husband, Pierre Bonnefoy, barely mustered up the words, taking him a few moments to even find the right ones to say. And they were said in a worse English than Alfred's French, so he didn't feel as bad about his lack of skills.

Alfred nodded to the words, muttering a soft 'alright' and crossing his arms in instinctive defense. He was always scared, even when his rational side told him there was no fear needed. He couldn't help it.

Jeanne, the mother, widened her eyes at an idea she suddenly got, and instantly took out her phone so they could be able to communicate. She googled a translation of the words she wanted to say, showing Alfred the screen instead of saying them out loud. 'Would you like to sit with us?' The phone showed, and the American chuckled at the idea. He'd have never thought of doing that.

"Oui," he replied with a small smile forming in the corner of his lips. "Merci." He added, and the lady waved her hand in dismiss.

"Pas de problème!" She took him by the hand and the three of them walked over to some empty seats on the other side. He wouldn't be able to find a seat with his colleagues, the left side was already full. But where the parents were seated, there were luckily more than a few free chairs. Somewhere in the infinite crowd of students and parents, there were Isabella, Gilbert, Elizabeta and Arthur, but he had no idea how to look for them or find them, so he decided to stick to these unfamiliar parents who he would soon become family to, and sat himself next to Adrienne's father. The ceremony was about to begin, and the two wouldn't understand a thing.

Alfred never knew there would be a moment he wished he knew French just so he could translate for them. Yet there he was, regretting the choice of taking German in high school. And it wasn't like he knew German. He could just say a couple of things, such as I don't speak German (Ich spreche nicht Deutsch). His foreign language skills were simply lower than zero.

"It's starting!" An excited girl to his left cheered as a student made his way towards the microphone on the stag - someone he didn't know, someone who was obviously chosen to open the ceremony.

"Welcome to the 317th annual graduation commencement at Yale University! Welcome, Class of 2018, the graduates and undergraduates, and their parents, families, friends, everyone who has taken their time to sit here with us as we celebrate four successful years of education, making friends, experiencing life, and give out the final degrees to our senior students, who have definitely deserved it after so much hard work, determination, and with so much intelligence with which they make this world a better place. Every single one of you. And those who will stand here in the front four years from now. We gather here today to recognize the extraordinary accomplishments of our students. We salute your effort, your diligence and your talents. And with this last word that I have gotten the power to say out loud, let the ceremony begin!"

Loud claps, whistling, and shouting could be heard from the audience, the graduates seemingly too excited not to bounce around each other in impatience. Alfred sat back and clapped along, wishing he could stay calm on the inside.

Matthew and Adrienne weren't next to each other, but they were in massive group of students which were standing in the front so they could walk up to take their degree. The American was with his scientist colleagues, while she was on the other side with those in the field of Literature, Language and the Art of Writing. She was so nervous, her hands shaking and sweating profusely as one of her colleagues had her arm around her, bouncing in place and biting her lip so she wouldn't scream out of thousands of overwhelming feelings.

Then the degrees started being given out. Each student was called up to the podium to receive their own, and each small ritual was followed by a lot of clapping. Then they would go to their parents or friends (or both) and excitedly watch the rest of the ceremony with a huge smile on their face, because every graduate there was now becoming a real, educated adult with a bright future ahead of them, and it would be hard to keep that happiness in. It was scary, but beautiful.

Finally, Alfred heard his brother's name being called up, and he was the one clapping the loudest as well as Adrienne and her parents.

"Matthew Jones, awarded a Bachelor of Science degree," the next thing he knew, he was up on the podium grinning widely as he took the diploma into his hand, showing it off to the audience before running down to Isabella, Gilbert and Elizabeta, who sat in the first row available after the rows of graduates. He didn't know where Alfred was, and he wasn't really in the position to go to his parents. And his friends hugged the living hell out of him, to the point of losing breath through not only the embrace, but the loud laughter of true happiness.

Some time later, it was the French Canadian girl's turn, and as she heard her name being called up, she almost tripped and fell while climbing up to the podium. Luckily, she didn't.

"Adrienne Bonnefoy, awarded a degree in French Literature and the French Language, along with a diploma for a four year pedagogy course," she heard and almost fainted in place, chuckling like a high school girl once she could finally feel the diploma in her hands.

So this was what euphoria felt like.

She ran up to Matthew first, then spotted her parents waving from the back seats, and as she noticed Alfred sat next to them, she pulled all her friends and the American along. It was a lot more hugging for all of them, and a mountain of 'congratulations' in both French and English. Even Arthur seemed happy and content, joining the conversation and leaving his usual cynical gentleman behind.

"We're done with university, what's next?" Matthew cackled, wrapping an arm around Adrienne who still couldn't stop jumping and shaking from everything that was going on.

"We get an apartment together in the near, start a family, get a job, oh lord, real life just hit us in the face and we didn't even notice..." The brunette was almost hyperventilating, holding a hand up to her chest, then both her hands to her face.

 

"Relax, it's only been a minute. You guys are going to see what happens and love it, whatever it is, because you love each other. And that's stronger than anything." Isabella tried to calm her down, and it seemed to be efficient after a couple of moments.

Alfred would be the first to comfort them if this was an ordinary day, if he could still be like his ordinary self. But he couldn't, so he just kept it shut, fidgeting with the sleeves of the black shirt Arthur had borrowed him. The others were too busy chatting away, he stood by the side and tried his best not to panic.

Which was quite hard with the voice repeating Adrienne's words in his head. And distorting them. And making him anxious. And ruining him.

They're leaving you. It's over. He's leaving you. It's over. They're starting a family. You're not family anymore. It's over. You're left behind again. It's over.

It's over, the voice that repeated those words was the deepest, scarier one, and it interlocked with each sentence that was being said. He couldn't stand it, it kept sending shivers down his spine and making it impossible to focus on the rest of the ceremony.

Every time his anxiety levels rose, the voices would show up again at their loudest and worst.

"Don't panic, you'll be alright," he kept repeating to himself under his breath over and over again, hoping that no one heard. He needed to keep his facade of staying aloof, he had to act like the voices weren't there.

But Isabella knew. She used to be in that shithole of paranoia herself before the medication actually started working. Now, she didn't hear them at all, and it only took her a few weeks of therapy for the voices to stop, although sometimes she would still have these hot and cold flashes and pictures appear in front of her face. Only when she was really stressed, though. On the other hand, it was different for Alfred, when he heard the damn things every waking second of his life. And she knew the moment she got to make eye contact with the poor boy standing aside. He gazed with a knowing look in his darkened blue eyes, and signaled with his hands that he was going to be fine.

You're never gonna see them again. Your only family is leaving. You'll be lonely.

Alone, alone, alone, and ten thousand more times. Alone, alone, so on and so on in different tones of voice. Alfred wanted to rip his hair and brain out, stomp on his heart and stab his chest multiple times with a kitchen knife. And what made it worse, those simple thoughts turned into intrusive ones, and if it wasn't for that shot of aripiprazole he received this morning, they would have most probably turned into tactile hallucinations. That would have been his breaking point for a panic attack.

"Hold it in, hold it in, you don't wanna ruin this for them." He kept whispering to calm his inner demons, swearing to himself that he'd manage through this no matter how difficult it got. The ceremony only lasted a little longer, and then...

Dear lord, then they'd have to go party for the rest of the day. He'd just have to excuse himself and stay home.

Hopefully Arthur would choose that option, too, because he didn't want to be alone, and he wanted to talk to the Brit about the thing that happened earlier in the morning. Perhaps they could smooth things out between each other, something they had both secretly wanted.

An hour or so later, at 4 in the afternoon (all of this lasted far too long for Alfred's taste, and he didn't know how he'd handle it when he would have to be the one taking his diploma in four years), the ceremony was finally over with the last words spoken by the same student who opened it.

"And with the power of words given to me, I pronounce the Yale graduation commencement finished!"

More cheers, clapping, whistles, shouts, jumping, loud graduates and congratulations washed over the audience, and soon everyone went along with their friends groups or colleagues. Adrienne and Matthew decided to stay with their friends and the girl's parents.

"Time to party?" Gilbert asked, grinning and adjusting the sleeves of his black leather jacket.

"Let's party!"

Alfred was more than nervous to tell them he'd rather go back to the dorm, and he dearly hoped Arthur would be the first one to utter those words so he could tag along or something. But the Brit joined them, so Alfred could do nothing but hesitantly follow the group.

Until someone else saved him.

"Actually, I'm really sleepless and tired. Is it alright if we just do another little celebration at the dormitory when you guys get back?" Isabella pretended to yawn, giving Alfred a knowing glance as if she was telepathically telling him to use his chance.

"Me too," he nearly stuttered, feeling his hand being taken by Isabella's. "I'm sorry... I should be there, it's your big day, it's alright if you're mad."

Don't look at the ground, the voice reminded him, yet he didn't listen, averting his gaze to the grass. He couldn't stand keeping eye contact with his brother, when he had just disappointed him.

"It's alright, Alfred." Matthew, instead of being angry like Alfred was afraid he would be, showed sincere sympathy on his face, giving his brother a smile and a light tap on the shoulder. "Don't stress over it. It's fine." He knew Alfred sometimes had it difficult to socialize, and he had to respect that, even if he wanted his only family there to cheer him on. It hurt a little bit, the whole situation hurt. The fact his parents couldn't be there to congratulate him, and his younger brother, the only person from the Jones family who was alive, wasn't capable of spending the day with him. But he had to hide the hurt and enjoy what was left of the day.

"Alright." Alfred replied almost silently, hugging it out with Matt and Adrienne before making his way back to the dormitory with Isabella.

It seemed like they were the only two people who were heading in that direction. And that was no surprise.

The two of them walked in silence next to each other for some time, holding hands and having both their heads stuck in different worlds. Alfred's world was decorated in ribbons of anxiety and self - hatred, while Isabella's grew trees of concern and lots of small flowers of worry. Worry for Alfred, for the most part.

"You struggled to keep your cool over there, huh?" Isabella started the conversation first, making the boy suddenly turn his head towards her, his teary blue eyes clearly showing a burst of sadness.

"Yeah, well," he choked out the words, hoping he could keep the crying inside. "It's just a lot to handle, you know? They're leaving, I don't know how to cope with it."

"They're not leaving, Alfred. It's not like they'll be miles away. You can always visit them, they're just one call away."

 

"But it's not the same! I've always had Matthew by my side, ever since our parents died, and now he's suddenly not going to be here anymore, starting his own family...! What if he won't care about me anymore? What if he forgets me? What if he never wants to see me again?"

Hyperventilating, barely breathing, hands shaking, pulse increasing, body sweating, heart racing, anxiety rising, pushing him to break down, pushing him to let it all out in front of an actual person. Isabella. He hadn't done that ever since she came back to Yale from the hospital, and Arthur broke up with him.

"Of course he wants to see you, he loves you. You're his little brother. And I know it's hard for you to take the fact he won't be three steps away, but you have me, and Gilbert, and Elizabeta, and even Arthur. I'm sure he doesn't hate you. He's just naturally grumpy." They were nearly approaching the dormitory, when Isabella wrapped her arms around Alfred to bring them closer, rubbing circles into his back as a way of calming him down. "You'll never be alone, I assure you. There will be so many things for you to do. Over the summer, for example, there will be some essays for you to enjoy writing so you can finish your first year. Then, the second year of college. The one you can start off fresh. And if you can't, Emilia is just a few blocks away. I can go with you, if you're too afraid to go by yourself."

"I'm so sorry I'm like this," Alfred whispered as cold tears stained his cheeks, his body trembling and sobs escaping his throat. "I'm sorry I cry so much, I'm sorry that you have to put up with it... I wish I could change, I really do." He gasped for air, nearly falling - he would have, if Isabella wasn't there to hold him. "I'm sorry I'm too emotional for a guy. I can't help it. I I wanted to save the world, but I can't even save myself."

"It's okay, let it all out," she encouraged the crying, and didn't even think of him as less of a guy for being like that. It wouldn't have occurred to her mind. "Boys can cry, too, you know. Just as much as girls. I don't know why society doesn't think so. Don't feel like you're worth any less for it, alright? Never apologize for who you are. I love you just the way you are, and I'll help you through the hardships."

Alfred's breath hitched in his throat, and he could hear the sound of his heart clenching in his chest at the words. She loves me even at my worst, he thought to himself, relaxing into the tight hug and letting the tears keep falling. "Thank you..."

"I know you want to save the world, but it's okay if the first person you save is yourself."


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

July

Summer was supposed to be easy going and relaxing, with trips to the beach and funny named cocktails such as Little Engineer, Woo Woo or, the worst one on the list, Sperm. Honestly, who would ever go to a bar or a club and shamelessly order something under such a name? The first one is embarrassing itself, imagining person asking the waiter "Can you bring me a Little Engineer?" And let's not even mention the last one. Perhaps that's not even the worst of them, which would be quite a surprise to know.

Well, summer wasn't that easy going and relaxing for a couple of new college graduates, their family and friends. They didn't live at the Yale dormitory anymore, but found a nice little apartment for each other near the university by Matthew's request, since he needed to be close to his brother in case something happened. Adrienne didn't mind.

Summer was also quite busy with planning surprise parties, because there were three birthdays to celebrate. Alongside the birthdays, the World Cup finale was getting closer, and they all wondered who would be this year's winner. Adrienne cheered for France, while Alfred purposefully cheered for Russia. Arthur even prepared an English flag to wave for the final, hoping that his country would reach that far.

On the first of July, Matthew celebrated at the dormitory, Emma being the main organizer of the party simply because she was the best at doing it. They invited all their friends and made it seem as if an accident happened so that Matthew had to come and help, faking his panic since he knew exactly what was going on. He was awaited by a big banner on which it stood, written out in perfect calligraphy, 'Matthew, happy 22nd birthday'. He was more than sure that was Alfred's work, since the boy had a couple of notebooks where he practiced calligraphy, and the background was painted in pastel colours, a spectrum that was Alfred's latest aesthetic obsession.

Today was a different day, and it involved two parties that would probably merge into a big one as the day went on. The Fourth of July. They weren't only celebrating America and the Declaration of Independence, but something more important - Alfred's birthday. It was scary to him, he was twenty years old, no longer a teenage boy. Not that a number changed his stupidity, Arthur commented, all in good fun. The two of them were getting along better than before, enjoying friendly banter and bickering like good friends would, although they still haven't properly talked things out, waiting for the perfect moment to do that.

He woke up at about nine in the morning, just to find out he was alone in the room. Which meant Arthur was already with the others preparing something. Goddammit. He never liked surprises, they made him anxious and he hated not knowing what to expect from things. But since his friends were definitely out there, putting their effort in making him happy, he was going to play along and pretend they weren't doing anything.

After a few minutes of simply lying down on the bed aimlessly scrolling through social media on his phone and procrastinating getting up, he finally decided that was enough and climbed down to get on with his usual morning routine, which consisted of going to the bathroom, taking his medication and putting on clothes. It was boring, in his opinion, but had to be done nonetheless. Especially the meds part, since he couldn't function without those.

He chose a pair of light blue ripped jeans and one of his favourite white All Time Low t-shirts, the one with the Future Hearts album logo on it, since this was a special occasion and that was a special piece of clothing to him.

In August, they were going to the band's concert in Connecticut's Oakdale Theater, and he could hardly wait for that. He was going to have the time of his life with all the people closest to him.

"I wonder what would happen if I missed a dose of meds once... I mean, I hear voices nonetheless, would I just get more panicky about it?" He asked himself as he took the small white pill, downing it with water right after. "Never mind, I'm not even going to try that."

As he made his way outside, he was awaited with a whole lot of stars-and-stripes themed decorations all over the hallway. Damn, Yale knew their celebrations. A huge American flag hung from the stairway that lead to the floor down, every single dorm room had a small flag on the door, and the bathroom had a blue and red ribbon tied on the doorknob. Well, that was a bit weird in his opinion, but he liked the decor anyway. It was quite... Patriotic, to say the least.

One door had a sign that particularly caught Alfred's eye, and he walked over to closer examine what it said. 'Be careful with fireworks today, and think of those suffering from PTSD'. Interesting. He wondered what inspired the person to put up the sign - their own experiences, their family, or was it genuinely an act to cause awareness? Whatever it was, it made him feel good that society is, at least somewhat, breaking down the stigma surrounding different mental disorders. On the other hand, he was surprised that there were other students staying at the university over the summer like Arthur and he. He expected more of them going home to visit family - but again, Gilbert and Elizabeta were going to Hungary near the end of this month, and it made sense that people wanted to stay with their college friends rather than spend summer with their mothers and overly Christian grandmas.

Family topic aside, the sign made him wonder how he would react to the fireworks tonight as well. Since he hadn't seen any since the 4th of July last year, he wasn't sure whether they were a trigger or not. But something told him that they definitely wouldn't be as bad as sitting in complete silence.

He went over to Adrienne and Matthew's room, just to find out it was empty, and of course, unlocked. The same thing happened when he knocked on Liz and Gilbert's room and no one answered the door. Isabella seemed to be absent as well, but at least she left a note on her door saying she was gone. Emma was the last resort, and once he approached the room she shared with Sara (who he still couldn't stand), he apprehensively knocked in fear of the Dutch girl. The last time he saw her face to face, she nearly wanted to kill him and blackmailed him to keep an important secret from his friends. So it was fairly reasonable for him to be scared of her.

"What do you want?" Sara angrily glared as she opened the door, and Alfred couldn't help but instantly hate how he had to be so much shorter than her, and how Dutch people had to be one of the tallest in the world, because he suddenly felt so small underneath her hateful gaze. It was clear she couldn't stand him, and she had her reasons, but he didn't appreciate her need to scare him.

"Uh, I just wanted to know whether Emma is here or not." He didn't feel like keeping eye contact with the girl, and instead looked around everywhere he could except her face. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything."

"You should be sorry for much more than that," she spat out, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. Even though he was afraid of being killed, he put on an act of fake confidence, crossing his arms and standing up right to his full height.

"For saving my brother's relationship? I don't think I should be sorry for that. Anyway, is she here?"

"No, she's not. For some reason, she joined those idiots in preparing a surprise party for you." Sara's lips were pursed together as she stared at him from above, wishing she could slap his presence away - he was the only reason she wasn't dating Matthew Jones right now, the guy she still had a massive crush on. And she wasn't the one to get over things easily. She was going to hold a grudge against his younger brother until the end of time.

"Don't call my friends idiots. Insult me, I don't give a shit. Insult my friends, and you're fucking dead, alright?"

"Oh, just get out of my fucking face, Alfred. No one cares about you anyway."

"Must be why they're planning a surprise party for me." He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders carelessly, and watched her face turn into a furious expression, but she didn't utter a word - once she seemed like she was going to attack him, he quickly saluted a goodbye and turned around to walk away as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't feel like getting bruise marks on his neck today.

That was close, he thought to himself and finally stopped holding his breath.

He decided that, since all of his friends had mysteriously vanished from the face of earth, he would spend his morning painting one of his final projects for art class he should have already given in, but with the hospitalization didn't get to finish. And he was going to have fun with it - it was supposed to be in the style of Salvador Dali, his favourite painter. It wasn't a problem for Alfred to distort the world in his head, and it was even less of a problem to put that on paper. Oil on canvas was one of the easiest techniques in his opinion, although most artists in his class would disagree. But he wouldn't agree with them either, since most enjoy watercolour painting and he thought it was more difficult than others. He still loved it, though. He loved painting of all types, techniques, shapes and sizes. It was his life. And it always would be. It was what saved him during his darkest moments, what he lived for.

So as he began to work on the painting, he noticed something was missing in the room. It was a bit too plain, bland, and it needed something else. But he couldn't decode what.

Until he realized it was far too silent for him to enjoy it.

"I need some music in here." He told himself, plugging in the speakers that both Arthur and him had on the desk, connecting them to his phone so he could blast whatever came to his mind, simply something to fill the quiet and he could enjoy singing along to at the same time. "I still have all these songs from my emo phase on my phone." He laughed while checking the song library and finding it to be full of Panic! At The Disco, Twenty One Pilots, Fall Out Boy and even My Chemical Romance. Most of the songs here were still All Time Low, though, and there were a lot of random things he might have heard on the radio and downloaded just for the sake of it. And, for some reason, a bunch of Chopin. He hadn't been here in a while, incapable of enjoying music over the sounds he'd been hearing in his head. But now, he didn't care. This was a day to enjoy himself despite anything.

It took him more than a couple of minutes to finally settle on a song to start with, and in the end, he chose All Time Low. He couldn't resist. It was the one band that was always able to make him feel things, even if he felt emotionless at times. The song Paint You Wings blasted through the narrow space of the room, right as he was getting his paintbrush in hand and focused on the artwork on the easel in front of him. Singing along to the lyrics, he realized how well they fit him and Isabella, which made him suddenly love the song a thousand more times.

"I painted a picture of the things I wanted most

To color in the darkest side of all my brightest hopes

But there's a monster standing where you should be

So I'll paint you wings

Now I'll set you free"

He sang along as loud as he could, forgetting about all his worries, leaving everything behind except the music and the painting. It was all that mattered right now. He didn't feel this good in quite a while. He felt energized for the party that he knew would be coming later on, and simply wanted today to last forever. Because he was fully aware that it wouldn't be like this all the time, that there were going to be bad and horrible days, relapses, psychotic breaks - if only this perfect day could be the only long lasting one.

Before he could blink, it was already noon and he was still painting, lost in the colours and the music, and the colours of music. Anyone who knew what he was doing while he was working on the art would know that he might have projected the songs on it a little bit. Just a little, though, since he needed to hold onto the topic that the professor assigned them.

But instead of straight up copying Dali's melting watches, he instead distorted the place he was in for a full month, better said - the hospital. Everything he had seen while he was there, he made it look like it fell right out of surrealism. Not only for his own enjoyment of mentally destroying the places he hated, but also for the reaction he could see on his art professor's face. Just like when he had shown him the drawings he had made while he was hospitalized. Those were horror worthy material.

"Jesus Christ and everything holy, that's some demonic shit." He recalled the teacher's comment with a slightly saddened chuckle, because all the things he had drawn were the things he had seen with his own eyes.

The class' comments when the professor had the work up on the pinboard was different - mostly shocked, some weirded out, and some disgusted. Some didn't want to talk to him after he returned from the institution, thinking that his craziness was contagious, which was a bit hurtful since he loved being in class with those people - before his psychosis struck, they were all his friends, and a few of them even greatly admired him for his work. Things had drastically changed, though, and he wasn't the main attraction, nor the university's 'Public speaker of the month' like he was back in September and December. Now, to the teachers, he was the schizophrenic kid they needed to treat like he was five and had special needs, and to the students, just someone painting in the background who suddenly quieted down his existence.

On some days, he didn't care about those comments (just like today, he felt like nothing like that could make him feel bad), but sometimes they brought him down to the ground like a weight on his chest. Sometimes he wanted to scream and cry in his pillow because it hurt too much to be treated so differently by people who used to like him, when he had done nothing to them except be kind, and sometimes he confidently stood up to side comments he had received during lessons. On some days, he did both.

Two more hours had passed, he was still painting, listening through the entirety of Last Young Renegade for the second time in the row and loudly shouting out the lyrics, almost pushing his easel to the floor once if it wasn't for his quick reflexes that prevented the artwork from getting destroyed. No one of his friends had called him up yet, but he didn't mind. There was time for celebrations, and he was enjoying this bit of introverted time, alone with art and music. Arthur was right, this was really nice. He didn't have it in quite a while. Being locked up didn't really count as introverted time, since it wasn't very willing, nor nice. And the days where he preferred to stay alone at home instead of going out weren't quite relaxing either, because they usually consisted of Alfred beating himself up mentally for everything he had ever done, being paranoid from the smallest things and being withdrawn into his inner world of demons. Those days happened more often, so he liked a nice break and a good day to wake up where he actually saw a purpose to get out of bed and do the things he loved.

At around three in the afternoon, his binging on All Time Low was interrupted by the ringtone of his phone, and he instantly ran up to answer the call. It was Matthew.

"Yo, what's up?" He smiled when he picked up the phone, noticing he still had the paintbrush in his right hand once he spotted smeared paint on the edge Arthur's desk, where he put his phone. He was going to get killed for that unless he removed it before the Brit could lay his eyes on it.

"You won't believe this, but we met Alex Gaskarth at the disco!" His brother's voice took on an excited tone, and Alfred could only hold in laughter upon hearing it. So, that was their way of bringing them over there. Really accurate, in their opinion. He'd get in a van if it said Alex was in there.

"Really now? What does he look like?" He wasn't going to play easy on them, and wondered if Matthew even knew the singer's appearance, or did he only know the name.

"Uh, he's way taller than you."

"Who isn't?" Alfred huffed, still stifling giggles behind his hand. "Alright, what's his hair colour?" It would be amazing to meet Alex Gaskarth, the lead singer of his favourite band, but it was pretty impossible to randomly find him alone in a disco club near Yale in New Haven. It made no sense. No wonder how much he wanted it to be true, he knew it wasn't really happening. Unfortunately. Still, it was fun to imagine, and might have been his new painting idea. If he made it convincing and realistic enough, he could brag that he had a photo with Alex.

"Come see for yourself," he could literally feel Matthew's smirk on the other side of the line.

"Alright, let me just clean Arthur's desk real quick. I got paint on it by accident."

"Why am I not surprised?" Matthew sighed, but chuckled nonetheless. "Be quick." And after that, they both said their goodbyes and hung up, once again leaving Alfred to his own devices.

Alfred suddenly felt even more hyped than before, and he might have let a really high - pitched squeal that he would never want anyone to hear. He quickly grabbed a couple of tissues to clean up the mess he had made, scrubbing it off until nothing was visible. Arthur was pretty much a clean freak, Alfred would have been scolded if he had left a single spot to be seen.

Throwing away the tissues, he quickly checked his hair with the front camera of his cell phone and ran out of the room leaving the door unlocked.

It took him about fifteen minutes to get to the disco club by foot with a little bit of speed walking near the end because he was too excited to wait.

Going in through the heavy, old looking wooden door, he was awaited by a loud cheer from everyone in the entire club, even the people who he didn't recognize once he had looked around.

"Happy birthday!" The words echoed through the space around them, and it took him a couple of seconds to get a grasp of every detail that they managed to put together. Since the club was owned by Emma's father, they could do anything with it, Emma as a connection. There was a big American flag behind the waiter's counter, and it seemed like the music playlist for tonight was made by someone who knew him really well, since he could hear Brendon Urie's newest album Pray For The Wicked, no doubt, playing in the background. Isabella, Gilbert and Elizabeta were holding up a sign that said 'happy birthday' in an attempt to copy the same calligraphy font he used for the one they used on Matthew's party. The karaoke was open as well - perfect, he planned to sing his heart out the whole day - and there was a yellow sign at the counter that said 'free drinks on the house'. He couldn't help but smile like never before, suddenly feeling himself get embraced by all his friends at once, his girlfriend hugging him for a little longer than the others, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek that made him turn a dusty shade of red all over his cheeks.

"I don't know what to say..." He shyly put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing around the club to see who else had come. Emilia and Lovisa were there, too, dressed in matching graphic red shirts, the Icelander wearing white shorts, while the Norwegian wore black ones. Adrienne wore a yellow party dress that was shorter in the front, longer in the back. Her long, curly brown hair was let down instead of tied in a ponytail - Alfred thought they needed VIP tickets to see that on her. Arthur was in his usual black jeans, only now he was wearing an actually cool shirt for once. One that Alfred might have even bought if he saw it. He held an expensive looking cocktail in his hand, taking a sip almost every beat of the song. Well, he now knew who was going to be carried home drunk. "Thank you for putting this together, oh my god... You guys are the best friends I could ever have."

"Anything for our best boy, huh?" Isabella gave him a suggestive wink, placing a hand on his shoulder. He noticed Adrienne smirking proudly from the side, giving the Danish girl a nod of approval even if the other couldn't see it, while Matthew just sighed at his future wife with a mixture of exasperation and love in his eyes. The Dane had a white crop top and a long, red skirt on, and she looked absolutely gorgeous in it. Well, she looked beautiful all the time, but this was perfect on her.

"Uh, yeah? I guess?" The flirting thing wasn't his strong suit, and he was fairly sure it would never be. "I'm going to need a lot of drinks tonight." He whispered, awkwardly staring at Isabella, who just chuckled and leaned in for a kiss on the lips.

And goddamn, it was a fiery one.

Soon enough, the party hit off really well, with good music that everyone who had ever been emo at any phase in their life could sing along to, and a lot of free alcohol for everyone over and under twenty one, since no one really cared about the age. Except Alfred and Isabella - he settled for apple cider, and she chose a non-alcoholic cocktail, because they weren't allowed to drink alcohol while on medication. Which meant, no booze ever. Not that they minded much.

The two of them soon took the podium and found themselves with microphones in their hands as the squad made them try out something on the karaoke machine. Alfred attempted to get out of it saying he was a horrible singer, but when Isabella agreed to it, he couldn't help but join her. She wasn't only a great singer, she took singing classes all throughout highschool and wanted to become a lead singer of a band once she finished college, where she was up for music theory.

"What song do you want?" He asked her, fidgeting nervously with the microphone.

"Ground Control sounds like a good choice for a duet, what do you think?" She wore the biggest smile on her face, playing with her hair as she looked at him, her eyes sparkling with happiness and confidence, something he loved seeing on her so much, and wished he could return it in all its brightness.

"Let's go for it, then!" And before he could say anything else, the music started, Isabella took him by the hand, he had to focus on lyrics and actually sing to an actual audience - he had never done it before, and had no idea how to do it exactly.

Once he got lost in the beat, though, the anxiety was gone, and he felt a sudden burst of confidence after Elizabeta and Emilia clapped their heart out after the first verse already, hugging and jumping like they had been friends for centuries.

Isabella made eye contact with him right when that was exactly what the lyrics said, and they sang the next chorus looking at each other, smiling, blushing, enjoying every moment of it and wishing they could kiss again then and there (he was far too shy to do it on a stage, though). It was beautiful, and he wanted it to never end. Standing right there with the person he loved the most, watched by the people that he considered family, singing one of his favourite songs, from his favourite bands, feeling the kind of happiness that was so rare, so special, there were no better words to describe it besides absolutely perfect.

Sure, he knew that tomorrow, he would wake up and perhaps feel weighed down by the heaviness of hardships, but right now, he didn't feel like that. And that was the most important thing. He had gotten so caught up in every bad thing, that he forgot to live in the moment. Moments like these are why he existed, moments like these are that high of life that everyone cherishes until the end of time. Those are the ones we write down in diaries to recall when we read them ten years from now. Those are the ones we keep photographs of in the sketchbooks of our youth.

"If you start floating away

Hey, I promise, you will be fine

Got the universe on your side

When you're out in space

Don't you be afraid, no

If you start floating away"

\- - -

Throughout the day, multiple people had been on and off the stage - including Arthur, who drunkenly belted out I'm Not Okay by My Chemical Romance, surprising everyone with the choice of music, and the greatness of his voice as well. Perhaps this wild side of the Brit could only come out when he was drunk. Well, not fully drunk. A bit tipsy, perhaps, since he could still talk and was perfectly aware of his surroundings. The only thing that was gone was his social anxiety, replaced by this newfound confidence and wild spirit. Some people that Alfred didn't know had also taken the stage, their performances leaving him in awe. Maybe they were real singers, unlike him. Although, he got a lot of comments about how his voice was really good. So maybe he had a future with Arthur and Isabella in an emo band, or something.

As the evening came around, the party moved towards outside of the club to celebrate America, everyone excited for the New Haven Independence Day parade. There were American flags everywhere, in the hands of each person and on the streets, and a marching band played the Star Spangled Banner, the national anthem of the United States. Each soul felt patriotic, whether they were born and raised Americans like Alfred and Matthew or from the outside like all of their friends. They were Norwegian, Icelandic, English, Hungarian, German, Belgian, Canadian (specifically from Quebec, it was important to say), and Danish, but tonight, everyone felt at least a little bit American.

Soon enough, Alfred was waving a flag as well, buying one worth two dollars from a stand. Matthew just got popcorn, and Isabella gave money to a ten year old looking girl who didn't have enough on her to buy a glowstick.

"We should have kids." She bluntly stated as she watched the girl make her way back to some of her friends.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, wishing he could read her peculiar thoughts. "We should get a dog and name him Alexander Gaskarth."

"You're an idiot."

"And you love me." He grinned, and she couldn't deny that one, just gave him a dreamy glance before she got carried away by another sparkly stand and pulled him with her. They sold flower crowns, and Alfred couldn't believe he just paid five dollars for two without any hesitation. The next thing he knew, he was posing for a photo with Isabella, pink flowers on their heads.

He decided to keep his on even after the picture was taken.

Everything was moving really quickly, and soon Alfred was sitting next to Emilia and Lovisa in an open, outside ice cream shop/cafe bar eating vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles while Elizabeta and Gilbert lost themselves in a public makeout session on the table across them, Emma, Isabella, Matthew and Adrienne talking to a group of strangers at the counter and Arthur trying to chat up a hot guy who he said looked homosexual sitting next to the window. It seemed to be working, judging by the smirk on the Brit's face when he glanced at the observing girl trio plus Alfred.

His little chat with the girls was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder, and once he turned around, he was sure that the scream he let out was one of a five year old girl running away from a mosquito. Because he was face to face with Ivan Braginski, his hospital bully who got him in restraints once.

"Braginski?! What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked defensively, glancing at Emilia in fear, and the girl just let out an easy going laugh.

"It's fine, Alfred. He's been discharged a couple of days ago because he's doing really good." She smiled, non-verbally pointing Alfred to go hang out with the Russian and make friends instead of holding a grudge for the rest of his life.

"That is right. Emilia taught me some lessons, and I wanted to apologize for what I did as soon as I saw you." Ivan's accent was still as thick as Alfred remembered it, and the look in his eyes looked sincere. The boy was in a long sleeved hoodie, the American immediately connected it with the infinite amount of scars on his arms he wanted to hide. Goddamn, it must have been hot in that hoodie. Now he was glad he didn't hurt himself when he wanted to, because he didn't think he could handle wearing that at 90 degrees Fahrenheit.

"Uh-- alright. You girls have fun, I'll try... Not to get killed." He chuckled, and hesitantly got out of his seat to join Ivan, walking over to another free table they could sit at.

The boys were first met with awkward silence between them, Alfred afraid to make eye contact and looking at literally anything besides Ivan, while Ivan was eyeing the American boy and wondering what to say and how to start the conversation.

Until the waiter approached them, and they had to say something.

"I'll have a glass of vodka--", Ivan ordered, and Alfred interrupted him before he could say 'please'.

"Dude, you can't drink alcohol if you're on any kind of medication, I thought you knew that!" He said in a slightly panicky voice, and the Russian gave him a small, apologetic smile.

"How silly of me... I forgot. Thank you for reminding me." He said in am honest tone before looking back at the impatient waiter. "An apple juice, please."

"Same thing for me, I guess. And another ice cream cup." Alfred sat back in the comfortable seat and shrugged his shoulders, not really caring about the order.

"Say please, where are your manners?" Ivan rolled his eyes, smirking at the suddenly flustered boy. "Damned Americans."

"Fine. An apple juice and an ice cream cup, please." The other said through gritted teeth, and the waiter just emotionlessly took his order, muttering something under his breath in what clearly looked like irritation. It was a long day, and these two were probably the strangest customers he had gotten yet. And they took the longest to order, which made him annoyed.

After the waiter left, Alfred leaned in so he was inches away from Ivan's face, a somewhat angry look on his face. But it was more flustered and ashamed, that was obvious. "Don't embarrass me like that if you want this friendship thing to work out." He whisper yelled, making Ivan chuckle and sigh while shaking his head.

"You know too well that I love fooling around."

"Is that what you thought when you tried to fuck with Isabella back at the ward?" Alfred crossed his arms, pursing his lips together as Ivan wore a genuinely hurt look on his face. "By the way, I'm dating her now, so stay away. Just a warning, or else I'll rip your skin to shreds."

"And I thought I was the scary one." Ivan furrowed his eyebrows, mumbling the words under his breath in shock. "Listen, Alfred... I'm really trying to sort this thing out. My whole life, really. You seemed like the right person to apologize to, after all I've done to you back there. None of that was intentional, I'd have never done it if it wasn't for the, the... You'll understand, right? When the voices tell you to do bad things and you start to dissociate, you forget who you are and feel like you're just a puppet under their command. And when you get a reality check, you feel insanely guilty for what you've done while your mind wasn't really yours. Do you get what I'm talking about?" He let out a long exhale, saying a quick 'thank you' to the waiter once he had brought their orders.

Alfred listened to every single word that was being said, surprised at what the other was saying. While he had simply deemed him as a bad person, that was just the opposite of who Ivan was. He was struggling, just like he was, but coped with it in less healthy ways. While Alfred drenched pillows into tears and papers in paint, Ivan drenched his skin in blood and people in violence. "I get where you're coming from." He replied, biting his lip, guilty for being so defensive at first. "I've always been the type to shout back at the voices and try to prove them wrong, but I understand you completely. Especially the part about forgetting who you are... That's so awfully relatable. I'm sorry you have to go through it. And I'm sorry for being so violent. Both with words and actions. I was just as lost."

"I'm sorry, too, Alfred. How about we put all of that behind, and start off anew? I'll be around at campus next year." Ivan gave a shy smile to the other as he took a sip of his drink, a noticeable sadness still present in his eyes. The same sadness visible in Alfred's, but it was better covered up by this upbeat vibe he found today. If only it could remain there forever, if only it could.

"I'm up for that, yeah. Want some ice cream?" He chuckled, handing the other his food, and Ivan accepted the tasty looking vanilla cup that Alfred hadn't touched yet, laughing a little at Alfred's childishness. "Tell me, Ivan, how come it was Emilia that taught you lessons, as you said? She wasn't your therapist as far as I can recall."

"My psychologist was really bad. She misdiagnosed me as having psychotic depression, told the psychiatrist to give me the medication I didn't need, was really mean and impatient in therapy, and made me feel so much worse than I had already felt. And I was so, so jealous of you and Isabella and all of Emilia's patients for having such a sweet lady. That's mainly the reason for you being my main target to lash out my anger. Then one day when I got a free pass to the hallways, I went over to her when she wasn't in a patient room and asked her if she could help me. And we talked, I already felt so much better after the first talk, so I started coming to her at the same time every day. She understood that my doctor wasn't capable of helping me, and after some time, she asked if I could become her patient. There was a disagreement for some time, but we made it happen. Turns out, I don't have psychotic depression, just like I thought. I have bipolar disorder type one and something else that I'm not sure I remember correctly, but I think it's derealization and depersonalization disorder. The point is, I started getting the right treatment and actually a saw a purpose in my life for once. She's great, Alfred, you don't even know how blessed you are that she was your assigned therapist since the start." The last sentence was spoken in the most serious tone, and Alfred only nodded along to it, feeling his heart clench in his chest. Had he shown enough gratefulness? He hoped he did, otherwise he needed to redeem himself. And he felt so bad for Ivan, now the Russian seemed like a genuine person of kindness and emotion, simply stuck in a bad place, bad mindset... It wasn't his fault.

"I'm glad you reached out to Emilia. I really want you to feel better, honestly." Alfred sighed, looking down at his hands, not knowing what to say in such a serious conversation. He was bad at comforting, so much for all the overflowing empathy he had if he didn't know how to use it properly. "Psychosis is a shitty thing. It makes us feel and act like we're not ourselves, and that's horrible."

"The worst thing is getting back to the real world and seeing how many people think it's the same thing as being a psychopath." Ivan added with a bitter chuckle.

"Tell me about it! If I had a dollar for each time I heard that comment, I'd be on a yacht right now. And how many times I've been called crazy, I've lost count." Alfred added in heated agreement.

"But we're not crazy. Look at us, talking like normal people and feeling real emotions."

"Yeah..." Alfred smiled at that comment, nodding and holding up the glass of apple juice. "Cheers to that."

"Cheers!" Ivan replied with genuine, honest happiness in the tone of his voice, clinking his glass against Alfred's, each of them downing the drinks entirely after the toast.

Three tables away, Emilia and Lovisa were on their third cup of ice cream, neither of them feeling completely satiated. The doctors watched their ex patients, unable to hold back the smiles on their faces as they noticed the toast, the laughing, the conversation, everything they love to see in people they had to watched struggle with their darkest thoughts. She had seen Ivan break down into screams and shouts once, grabbing for the closest thing that could hurt him. She had witnessed Alfred crying and punching the wall and yelling about how he wished he was gone, and now the two of them looked so calm and collected, managing to smile despite every horrible thing they lived through and were still living through - it wasn't easier than at the start, no. They had just grown into stronger, better people over time. And they would keep doing just that. Not as enemies, but as friends.

"You know, Em, you've done a great job with those two." Lovisa commented, and Emilia sheepishly smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

"I sure have." Instead of holding up their glasses for a toast, she pressed her lips against her girlfriend's, startling the Norwegian until she got a hold of reality and kissed back, putting her hands on Emilia's shoulders as things heated up between the two of them, earning a lot of glances from everyone around the cafe. Especially Alfred and Ivan, who had that 'holy shit, our doctors are kissing and we're witnessing it' look on their faces that no one else could mimic.

And they were so happy for the girls, as much as they were for them.

\- - -

They moved from bar to bar as they waited for the firework show to start, which was going to be at ten in the evening when the sun was long gone and it would look prettier, more enjoyable to say the least.

It was about eight in the evening when Alfred found himself pulling an angry Englishman away from someone who tried to steal his wallet and miserably failed. Arthur wanted to physically fight him, but the American was there to pull him back, their entire friend group watching from the side as the two started bickering about the weirdest topics - such as 'you can't hit little kids who try to steal, then you're just as stupid as them', which was the strangest argument Alfred felt like he ever had to say. And Arthur's response was a bit too violent for his taste. 'I'll fuck up that kid's entire financial status and his whole family tree, how bloody dare he steal--' and so on (and so on), it was too long to tell the entire story.

After that, Arthur pulled Alfred aside, dragging him by his arm away from the group and outside of the bar. Apparently, he wanted to talk. Alfred wasn't sure whether he wanted to smooth things out between them, tell him he was engaged to the gay guy he met at the bar earlier, or hit him in the head for stopping him from killing that little thief.

Luckily, it was an apologizing session. The American didn't think he could take so many good emotions from so many people in one day. It was like a sensory overload for the heart, and he might have shed a tear or two after hearing everything that the Brit needed to say. He went as far to recall that moment way back in April when he called him a faker and an attention seeker for his illness, saying how it was the most disgusting thing he could have done to someone who needed help so obviously. He begged and pleaded for forgiveness, and Alfred didn't even hesitate to give it to him immediately. In fact, he had already forgiven him, but it felt so good to say that. Arthur took back every insulting word that he had ever said. He confessed that he thought it was nothing but a college affair from the start, and that he wasn't looking for soulmates that yet, to which Alfred replied with a confession of his own, that time he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with Arthur no matter how badly he treated him.

Arthur didn't know how he could have found himself damaging such an emotional soul, but he was fixing it now. It was all alright. They were hugging, Arthur crying into the other's shoulder as the other patted his back and told him over and over and again that it was fine, and that he didn't need to say anything more.

But Alfred thought he deserved to know one more thing about the Brit that he never knew before.

"Arthur... You always mention this thing that happened back in England that made you move to America in the middle of the college year, but you never told me what it is. If you don't want to, it's fine, but I think it's time for me to know." He finally hit with the sensitive topics, but again, Arthur did that to him the first day they met when he asked about family.

"No, it's alright. It's rude of me to mention it and not explain why I get so frustrated when I say it." Arthur said shakily, wiping off the previous tears that stained his pale cheeks. "You know... I could have gone back to my parents to visit them this summer, but I have no one to go back to."

"Are you an orphan like Matthew and me?" Alfred asked, eyebrow raised, but a sympathetic look in his eyes. "Because the first time we talked, you opened the conversation with family. I'd have never done that."

"It's not like that. Both of my parents are alive, and my annoying four brothers as well. It's just that... They kind of hate me for being gay, and kind of kicked me out when I finally told them." Arthur took a deep breath once he said the sentence, and the American couldn't help but frown at the words. That was just horrible, he never understood parents who promised to loved their child unconditionally and then do something like this when the child chooses to simply be themselves in the healthiest, most authentic way. "I wasn't this bitter old man before that happened. I was pretty average, just a bit moody when someone interrupted my reading sessions. But after that, I instantly moved to America, and you kind of found me at my most vulnerable state. Then this whole mess happened, which lead to me falling in love with you and hurting you and feeling like shit later on."

"No one deserves to go through that. You should have told me earlier, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Not your fault. It's them who should be ashamed of doing that shitty thing to such a great person. It's their loss. Now America has one more kind heart, and they have had no hearts since the start." Alfred offered some comforting words, which made the Brit cry a little bit more. Neither of them minded another hug.

"But you've gone through so many more worse things, I should be the one comforting you!" Arthur full - on sobbed into Alfred's shirt, shouting out the words. The other just shushed him.

"It doesn't matter that it might have been worse. Any problem is a valid problem, I wish more people understood that. If it hurt you emotionally or physically or in any way at all, you deserve the comfort. Understand?"

"I understand... Thank you for staying my friend even after all I've done to you."

"Anytime." Alfred patted his shoulder in the most platonic way, giving him a smile of sympathy - not pity, it was clear that his intentions were more than that - to which Arthur replied with a shy smile gracing the corner of his lips as he wiped off the rest of his tears and dried his wet cheeks.

Well, that was certainly an emotional rollercoaster, but Alfred had a lot of rides on those in the past already, so one more couldn't hurt.

Then they ended up getting back to the group, which was now joined by a certain Ivan Braginski, and Alfred was happy he could add Russian to the list of international friends he was celebrating the 4th of July with. The most non-American party he had ever had for the day of America. And the best one he'd had.

Arthur paid for the next round of drinks. Everyone ordered brandy, since it was the only thing that wasn't expensive on this bar which just asked too fucking much for a glass of vodka, or a cocktail. Eight dollars was a lot already, but twenty? They weren't giving away that much money. After all, they had student loans to pay off, there was no place for funny named cocktails.

On that note, it was important to mention that Adrienne lost a bet to Matthew and had to embarrass herself by ordering one called Redheaded Slut. And she had to pay twenty five bucks for it as well.

Let it be said, they all had a good giggle at hearing her say "I'd like one Redheaded Slut, please" to the ginger waitress who didn't know whether she would laugh or feel offended.

Adrienne swore to herself she was never coming back to that damned bar ever again.

At last, it was time to see the main show, the one that the Fourth of July (a.k.a. Alfred's birthday) was known for all around the world. The fireworks. They all bought two dollars worth patriotic coloured mats to spread over the grass and sit on, Alfred and Isabella choosing the most sparkly one with so many more stars than the real American flag had. And three stripes. Ivan and Arthur somehow agreed with sharing a mat, since they didn't want to buy separate ones and sit alone. Matthew and Adrienne, Gilbert and Elizabeta, Emilia and Lovisa all coupled up, but Emma wasn't alone either. She brought along a cute dark haired Spanish girl named Cassandra she met at the bar. She most probably saw a one night stand with her, but Emma was already planning a wedding dress. Nonetheless, they both saw this as a great opportunity for some kissing under the fireworks. And if there was any luck, it could have been the start of something really beautiful.

They spread the mats so they didn't have to sit on cold grass, some lying down and some sitting next to each other.

Alfred and Isabella cuddled up to one another, she leaned her head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her waist to bring them as close as they could get as they watched the starry sky and waited for the main event to start.

"I must admit, I feel a little bit scared." The boy said softly, and she blinked as she turned his head towards him too look him straight into the eyes.

"Of the fireworks? Don't worry, I think it's not a common trigger of anything bad for us. I feel sad for those that it is, though." She replied, the last sentence a bit saddened.

"No, not of the fireworks... I'm scared of being twenty years old, stepping into a new year feeling everything at once and not being clear about my future. Sure, today was amazing and I was happy, but tomorrow I could wake up and wish I was forever asleep. You know what I mean? Today is special, real life will hit me in the face the next day. Then, a new college year, what if I have to drop out because I get worse? I just wish I could predict the future, it would be so much easier instead of constantly wondering about it." He blurted out all his current emotions at once, not meaning to - they sometimes flowed out of him like a river flooding over his heart and out of his soul.

"I can't predict the future either, not for you, not for myself. But I know one thing for sure. No matter what happens, we'll be alright because we have art, we have music, we have a lot of friends, and most importantly, we have each other." Isabella smiled solemnly, taking his hand into hers and intertwining their fingers together. "So we don't have to be terrified of what's around the corner." A chuckle escaped her lips at the words, but they were so true. Alfred took them to heart, nodding and letting out a breathy laugh.

"God, I'm such a mess." He added, and suddenly, their comforting session was interrupted by a gunshot - like bang that came from the sky and resonated through the space around them. Then, a thousand more lighter ones spread over it, and the night was filled with different shapes and colours, mostly red, blue and white. The fireworks glistened like diamonds in the sky, writing out the stars in a language of beauty difficult to decode without looking at them through glasses of emotions.

Isabella took it as a perfect chance to steal a kiss, and before Alfred could even react on his own impulses that told him the same thing, her lips were against his in the most passionate kiss they had ever shared. His arms were around her, her hands were on his shoulders, her hair falling over her shoulders. She tasted like cherry lipstick, and he tasted of apple juice. There was nothing in this moment but them, the sounds of fireworks and the feeling of strings of fire falling over the sky that they felt was falling right on them. Everything was warm, and they hadn't had a single worry to care about. All that mattered was that they had each other, just like Isabella said. Their future hearts were a problem for another day. Now, they were healing old scars, melting in each other's embrace, gazing into each other's beautiful blue eyes underneath thousands of golden lights once they pulled away to take a deep breath.

"You're my beautiful mess." Isabella said, and then they kissed again.

The End


	39. Author's Note

So, it's over. I cannot believe it's over so quickly - three beautiful months writing this story that came right from the heart, through the keyboard and onto the screen. I know I say this every time, but it's true, I enjoyed writing this story the most. I believe I might even re-read this one just to relive the memories of writing it. And to fix up some grammar mistakes I missed. Is it okay to re-read your own stories? I think it is, from time to time. Or I'm just weird. 

My dearest, Marguerite- Future_Scxrs -helped me when I was losing motivation and gave me some ideas and guidelines when I didn't know how to continue. She cheered me on the entire time, gave me songs to listen to while writing and a lot of the romance is due to her help, since I'm horrible with it and she's such a hopeless romantic. We had a lot of moments together on Google Docs chatting away while writing, and made some amazing memories that I'll forever remember. In the meantime, I did my best to cheer her on when she was writing her own stories, which are amazing by the way, please check them out, you will not regret it. In fact, you might come back emotionally shattered in the best possible way. She's really a brilliant writer, I specifically recommend the fanfic "Fall" if you're into Alfred and Lovisa angst. I sure am.

I'm sorry that this took a Nordic turn when it comes to ships, but I cannot really stick to one ship forever, and neither can life sometimes. Y'know? Yes, I've broken up with someone, and I usually project my feelings through my stories. Also, I wanted this book to be more heartfelt and really, really life-hits-you-in-the-face style. That's why I've thrown in a lesson or two to learn, since life is an education the second you are born until the second you die, and even then your knowledge is left as a legacy in the minds of people you've left a positive impact on. We learn things everywhere, so why not from a fanfic, too?

I've read a lot of angsty fanfics in my life, and I've only found a couple of those (Hetalia ones) that take on such a heavy topic such as schizophrenia. They mainly focus on the craziness of the person and their hallucinations, and I didn't think they were really accurate. It didn't seem like the people did their research well, and only wanted to show the somewhat crazy side of the person. And I hate that word, really. I show that a lot in the story.  
There's more to mentally ill people than their illness. That's what I wanted to do in this book. Alfred Jones isn't just a schizophrenic kid who rocks back and forth in a chair and whispers demonic curses underneath his breath, there's so much more to him. He's a painter, he lives for art and listening to music, such as All Time Low and all those emo bands we all love and appreciate. He's an extroverted guy, loves hanging out with friends, and doesn't only talk about his shitty life experiences. I wanted to show a feeling side of these people, they are just people who struggle and deserve to be helped, but I wanted it to hit hard - not be romanticized.

I've had enough of reading romanticized depression, in those hellish Tumblr aesthetics with "depressed white girls self-harming because they are suicidal angels", I don't need schizophrenia in that way too, damn! I hate those so much, as a person who struggles with bad mental health on a daily basis. There are cases of schizophrenia, bipolar and depression in my family, and they aren't cute illnesses that go away with a hug. They're horrible to witness and experience.

Schizophrenia is, in most cases, life long. Permanent. My aunt has had the radio on in her room all day long for decades because she can't stand the silence, it makes the voices louder.

I've researched in detail before writing, and honestly, loved to have that feeling of understanding of the people who suffer from it. After finding out some things, I could have a nice chat with my aunt despite what my family says about her and deems her crazy, unworthy to talk to. She's a really nice person, in fact.  
I've researched every little bit of this illness, from the positive, negative and cognitive symptoms to every possible medication. In all honesty, I took aripiprazole and haloperidol for the story because they were the easiest to remember. And they sound kind of cool. I know, I know, how unprofessional, but I didn't do anything inaccurate. They're real meds, look 'em up, or look up Haldol and Abilify.

My opinion - if you want to take on a hard topic, do thorough research. Even about the smallest details. You can twist some aspects of the story, but the main topic, the illness, don't twist it a lot (this is just my opinion, I can't influence yours by it). I think it's the right thing to do.

I still remember this UsUk fanfic that showed America being suicidal until England kissed his pain away and then he wasn't depressed at all. It's just a big fuck you and slap in the face for all the teens who actually suffer from depression and read those things. At least that's how it felt to me.

Another aspect of the story I wanted to write is that people change. Not everyone is evil. There's good in (almost) everyone. And if people genuinely try to fix their mistakes, perhaps they deserve a second chance. I'm not saying if they're an abuser who left a horrible emotional influence on the victim, but if they've said some hurtful stuff in the past and keep trying to fix it. Their explanation for it doesn't make it okay for them to say those words, but it's good to have a healthy apologizing session and start anew. That goes in Arthur's and Ivan's case.  
And on the topic of Arthur - it's okay to break up. If the relationship doesn't seem to be going anywhere, isn't healthy, there's emotional detachment, or feelings have changed, it's reasonable to break up if the people don't think they could keep hanging and climbing by a thin thread trying to change it. I've learned that from my own breakup. Now we're best friends. We found out we don't work well as a couple, and over time, learned to accept that. It's healthy. Much healthier than if we stayed and drifted apart, perhaps to the point of holding in hatred for each other.

And again, on the topic of couples and stuff (this goes for Matthew's and Adrienne's case), it's not wrong for couples to fight. Of course, if they fight all the time, something must be wrong, a big disagreement they can't seem to argue over properly. But it's healthy for partners to argue once in a while. It doesn't mean they're going to turn for the worse. In fact, sometimes shouting it out was proven to lead to a better relationship in the future. It's never good to hold in feelings.

Honesty in relationships, first and foremost! Do not hold in your feelings!

And the last thing about couples and romance and stuff, sexualities. I seriously don't see enough things in this fandom that portray bisexuality and the fact labels are fluid and can change and that's okay! It's always either omg so gaaay or omg heterosexualityyy in this world. I'm bisexual myself and sometimes feel like there isn't enough representation. That goes out to the pansexuals as well (also, Brendon Urie is pan, I'm so happy for him!)  
Halfway through, Emilia wants to experiment with the girl that has a crush on her, and ends up falling in love with her. She was bi-curious, to see where it would lead, and realized she really liked girls, she just hadn't met the right girl until Lovisa. That's fine! If you thought you were straight and were so sure about it, and then fell in love with someone of the same sex, it's perfectly okay!  
Alfred considered himself gay for a lot of the story, until he slowly realized he was bisexual, but doesn't say a word about it - then comes Isabella, and shakes up his world all around. And everyone's hella surprised because he was always the gayest around. He then says he's known he was bi for while. Also, fine! Bisexual men are so underrated. You don't even know how many things I've found saying that girls shouldn't date bi men because they were with a guy before. Oh, so much bullshit on this pretty planet we call earth. And I wanna fix some of it.  
Some are confident in their sexualities, such as Arthur (gay), Lovisa (lesbian), Emma (bisexual), and our beloved straight couples Matthew & Adrienne, Gilbert and Elizabeta (in which Elizabeta is pansexual). It's also perfectly a-okay for bi/pan girls to date guys! Peeps, they swing all ways. If a dude's hot, dude's hot (wise words of Brendon Urie).

Back to the mental health stuff, though. Why am I explaining all this, you ask? I felt the need to clarify stuff, also it's 6 AM and I've been writing non-stop for the past 8 hours and I feel like my fingers are now officially glued to the keyboard.  
Except schizophrenia, I mention the depression that comes as a side symptom of it. It's difficult to deal with all that shit, it's only natural that the person falls into a depressive state.  
There are mentions of bipolar disorder (Ivan), even DPDR (depersonalization/derealizaton) disorder but only mentions. If you want to read more on the topic of derealization, check out Marguerite's story "Derealisation"! Definitely worth a read and a vote.  
And lastly, the overlapping topic of Arthur's social anxiety all throughout the story up until the last chapter where he frees himself of it once he's under the influence of alcohol. Sadly, a true story I'm living myself. It feels so good to down some vodka and finally talk to people without fear... DON'T DO IT. Rather get help, let it take time, talk therapy it out, cognitive-behavioural therapy it out, don't rely on alcohol to save you. Don't worry, I don't suffer from alcohol abuse, I just don't feel alright with the fact I can only feel free around people when I drink. But I'm going to reach out for help rather than let it take over me, I suggest you try to do the same if you're in the same boat.

Last thing for this note, I promise.  
This story used to be called Ghosts That We Knew, but I changed it because it was basically a work-in title I put while I looked for something better. Beautiful Mess fits it much better, especially because of the last sentence of the story.

I think that's it, I've gone over all I wanted to! I don't know if anyone is going to read this Author's Note, but I really, really wanted to write it nonetheless.

Thank you so, so much for reading, supporting me and the story all throughout it, and helping me grow as a person and as a writer with each of your kind words. I appreciate it with all my heart.

Love, Alexandra <3


End file.
